


Clutching Shadows

by garion1500



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Gothic-fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:06:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25807078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garion1500/pseuds/garion1500
Summary: The new Lord of his family's venerable estate must restore the honor of his line and destroy the horrifying abominations set loose by the mad folly of his ancestor. Gathering together a group of unlikely heroes and mercenaries they must delve deep into the dark abyss and battle creatures out of nightmare. But the darkest dungeon of all is not one made of stone or iron bars...
Kudos: 9





	1. Prologue: An Ancestor's Call

Prologue: An Ancestor's Call 

_May 23rd, 1898_

_London, England_

_Jerguson and Gentry Solicitors_

The lithe young man sat at his desk writing upon a sheet of paper with a well-trimmed quill. Pausing he dipped the nub into the inkwell beside him before returning to the page, swiftly scratching out the last of the notes he was making for a deposition before the Justice in the morning, careful not to stain the cuffs of his white shirt. Setting the paper aside and allowing the ink to dry the pale and clean-shaven man sat back in his chair and stretched, his shoulder-length brown hair swaying slightly behind him as he felt his back pop. A moment later there came a knock at his door. 

"Come in." The man called as he sat forward, smoothing his hair and focusing on the door. 

The polished oak door opened revealing the somewhat corpulent figure of one of the senior solicitors for the firm. The round-faced older man was dressed in a stylish shirt and waistcoat with dark slacks, a gold pocket watch tucked into the pocket of his vest with the chain just hanging out. A pair of slim bifocals sat upon his nose bringing his watery blue eyes into sharp focus and his hair was grey as was the trim beard covering his jowls. 

"Heading home for the day Charles?" He asked. 

Charles nodded. "I will be in a few moments Mr. Crawley. Just finishing up some paperwork." 

The man nodded. "Be sure and get some sleep, I want you fresh and bright-eyed when we're up before Lord Henry tomorrow in chambers, you know how the man gets if someone isn't giving them his full attention." 

"Absolutely sir." Charles said with a nod. 

"Good man." Crawley nodded in approval. "Good night to you then." 

"Good night sir." Charles nodded in respect as the man departed, shutting the door behind him. 

Glancing at the now dry page Charles added it to his sheaf of papers before smiling slightly. While the man was a bit stuffy and fastidious in his ways Mr. Crawley was certainly not a mean man. Charles owed him much for taking him under his wing and giving him a chance when the firm had allowed him to work for them as one of their junior solicitors. Being fresh out of law school Charles had not expected to find work in such a well known firm but Crawley had vouched for him, seeing potential in the 32 year old. The older man had shown him the ropes and guarded him against the sometimes cutthroat world of office politics as well as coaching him on the various Justices he would be coming in contact with in his role as a trial lawyer. Charles's sharp analytical mind and attention to detail had quickly ensured his usefulness to the firm and he was now considered one of their better solicitors, for relatively simple cases at least. He knew he had a ways to go yet before they would allow him to work on far more serious and prestigious cases but with Crawley's patronage he was certain it would come in due time. 

Closing his case filled with documents Charles stood and glanced about the small room. It might not have been much but it was certainly better than what might have been had he not gotten the position and the sign on his door, outlined in brass, did look rather fetching if he did say so. 

Charles Dexter Ezekiel, Solicitor. 

Smiling at his good fortune the man turned off the gas lamps in the room, allowing the light to fade before he left the room, shutting and locking it behind him. Leaving the office he stepped out into the fading London twilight, the lamp lighters moving about unobtrusively as they lit the lamp posts throughout the city. Calling a carriage Charles returned quickly to his flat a few miles away in one of the residential districts. Paying the cabbie he walked up the stairs, taking a moment to retrieve his mail from the box next to the door. Stepping inside he divested himself of his overcoat before loosening his necktie and rolling up his sleeves before settling in his favorite chair in the sitting room. As he began examining the post one of letters caught his eye, a thick envelope on rich paper held shut with a wax seal. Setting the others aside on the small table next to him he examined the name on the front. 

Lord Augustus Ezekiel. 

_Grandfather Augustus?_ Charles thought to himself in surprise. _Why in the world is he writing to me?_

Frowning he took hold of the envelope and snapped the seal, recalling what he knew of the man, having neither seen nor spoken to him in decades. From his childhood memories came the picture an older, aristocratic man with a pointed beard, weathered brow, and piercing grey eyes. Charles remembered he had always worn a great red overcoat trimmed with gold thread over his ruffled shirt and pants, making him look almost like a fanciful General in uniform. The man had seemed a rather distant and aloof figure, his deep and powerful voice always reverberating off the walls as he spoke with great gravitas and solemnity, regardless of the occasion. While his parents and he had often visited the man in earlier years they had seemed to grow distant towards him as time went on. He recalled the many hours he and his cousins had enjoyed playing in the large and stately manor the man had lived in but in time his parents had stopped their visits. 

_It was about that time that Father had us move to London._ He recalled with a bit of confusion as he remembered his Father had never explained to him why they had moved so far away from Augustus and the rest of the family even though he had asked on several occasions over the years. The only thing he knew for sure was that his parents and him had fallen on harder times shortly after that as the family fortune remained tied to Augustus and the man had stopped sending them any kind of assistance shortly thereafter. Fortunately, his father had been a conservative man even with his earlier wealth at his disposal and thankfully had saved enough to keep them afloat and send Charles to law school while he worked but money had definitely been tighter. 

Shaking off his thoughts he shook out the paper, noticing it was actually two separate letters within the envelope, one loose and the other sealed with more wax, a note on the front saying simply "to be opened before your departure". 

_I wonder what dear old Augustus wants…_ He thought idly as he opened the loose letter and read the first line. 

_Ruin has come to our family._

Charles froze upon reading the stark statement. 

_No greeting, no nothing...just...that. What could have happened that was so terrible…?_ He wondered in bewildered dismay before continuing to read. 

_Ruin has come to our family._

_You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial, gazing proudly from its stoic perch above the moor. I lived all my years in that ancient, rumor-shadowed manor, fattened by decadence and luxury. And yet I began to tire of...conventional extravagance. Singular unsettling tales suggested the mansion itself was a gateway to some fabulous and unnameable power. With relic and ritual, I bent every effort towards the excavation and recovery of those long buried secrets, exhausting what remained of our family fortune on...swarthy workmen and...sturdy shovels._

Pausing for a moment he stared at the letter uncomprehendingly before his mind began to work again. 

_Well that would certainly explain why Father and Mother never returned there with me if this kind of...madness was starting to manifest, but I never thought...!_ His train of thought trailed off in confusion before he refocused his attention on the letter. 

_At last, in the salt soaked crags beneath the lowest foundations, we unearthed that damnable portal of antediluvian evil. Our every step unsettled the ancient earth! But we were in a realm of death and madness! In the end, I alone fled, laughing and wailing through those blackened arcades of antiquity._

_Until consciousness failed me._

Charles's hands shook as he read, his eyes wide. 

_You remember our venerable house, opulent and imperial...it has become a festering abomination! I beg you! Return home! Claim your birthright! And deliver our family from the ravenous clutching shadows of the Darkest Dungeon!_

Charles swallowed heavily as he tried to take in what he had just read, his unseeing eyes blinking in the soft light of the lamp. 

_This...this can't be!_ He thought fearfully. _I always know Grandfather was a bit eccentric but he would never have…_

It was then he noticed the rust-colored spatter on the outside of the envelope. 

Scarcely daring to breathe he slowly brought the envelope closer, examining the dark spots before bringing it to his nose and sniffing carefully. 

Amidst the slight perfumed scent of the parchment was the tell-tale scent of old blood. 

Swallowing heavily the envelope dropped from his nerveless fingers, falling into his lap. He stared at the letter, rereading it over and over again until he finally sat back, trying to comprehend what he had read while his Grandfather's dying wishes reverberated over and over in his head as he shivered, his body chilled to the bone. 

_Return home...claim your birthright...deliver your family..._

" _Grandfather…what have you done?"_ He said in a horrified whisper, his eyes staring into the darkness of his room beyond the seemingly feeble light of the lamp. 

The darkness stared back at him silently. 

* * *


	2. Preparations

_You will arrive along the old road._

_It winds with a troubling, serpent-like suggestion through the corrupted countryside. Leading only, I fear, to ever more tenebrous places. There is a sickness in the ancient, pitted cobbles of the old road and on its writhing path you will face viciousness, violence, and perhaps, other damnably transcendent terrors._

_So steel yourself and remember there can be no bravery without madness. The old road will take you to hell. But, in that gaping abyss, we will find our redemption._

Charles lowered the note, a weary look in his eyes. He had hardly been able to sleep and the few snatches of rest he did manage were plagued with dark indefinable nightmares that left him sweating upon waking. Finally, as dawn was breaking over the city, he had decided to read the second note. Thankfully, while the message held the possibility of a hard journey to the moors where the manor stood, the writing was much more reminiscent of his Grandfather's normal prose when writing or even speaking. 

_Grandfather always did have a flair for the dramatic._ He recalled idly as he slowly dressed and put his hair in a semblance of order. _Obviously I'm going to need protection not only for the journey but while I'm there if what the first letter said was true._

As he made himself a simple breakfast he pondered his next moves with careful deliberation. Obviously he would have to inform the firm that he would be away for quite some time due to a family emergency and inform his friends as well. Then there was also the matter of hiring not only a coach to take him north but whom to hire for the trip. 

Polishing off his toast and eggs he retrieved his folio of documents and quickly left the flat. Catching a carriage he soon found himself at the steps of his employer. 

_I hope I'll still have a job after all this._ He thought morosely as he climbed the steps. 

Walking through the front door he made his way to Crawley's office where his secretary sat, writing. 

"Good morning Mary." He said quietly. "Is he in yet?" 

The blonde woman looked up at him and blinked in surprise. "My goodness! Charles you look like you've seen a ghost!" 

Charles smiled wanly at this. "Not surprising. I received a rather...distressing letter last night. I'm afraid my Grandfather just recently passed away. I'm needed up north to...get his affairs in order." 

The woman's hand flew to her mouth in dismay. "Oh Charles! That's terrible, I'm so sorry! I-I'm afraid Mr. Crawley isn't in yet but I'll be sure to tell him the minute he comes in the door!" She assured him, her eyes filled with concern. 

Nodding Charles handed over the folio. "These are all the documents we needed for this morning's court session. Needless to say I won't be able to make it. Perhaps John can help out. He's familiar with some of the details too as he helped me with bits of it. I don't know how long it will take me but I'll try to be back as quickly as I can. Don't want them to fill my seat while I'm away." He suggested with a sad smile. 

Mary nodded accepting the folio from his outstretched hand. "I'll make sure to get these to him. Good luck Charles. You'll be in my prayers." She assured him. 

"Thank you Mary." Charles replied with a nod before leaving the office. 

The remainder of the morning seemed to blur together as Charles attempted to make discreet inquiries about hiring men for a long journey. Eventually he found himself outside of what appeared to be a chapel house for a religious order. Looking up at the sign above the door he frowned slightly in confusion. 

"The Order of St. George. Curious, that. Never heard of them." He muttered as he knocked politely. 

A few moments later the door opened revealing an older man with a slight stoop and grey hair. "How may I help you young sir?" The door warden asked. 

"I'd like to speak with the Chapter Master about hiring a few of your men if it's possible." He requested. 

The man nodded. "Come in sir and I'll see if he can spare you a few minutes." 

The man moved to the side allowing Charles to enter. The man shut the door behind him and locked it before gesturing to one of the padded chairs sitting about the small entryway. 

"Please make yourself comfortable sir whilst I speak with the Chapter Master." He offered before stepping out of the room. 

Nodding, Charles seated himself in the chair, glancing about. The room was fairly spartan with a crucifix hanging on one wall and a vase of flowers upon a small table on the opposite wall. Not far away he could hear the muffled conversations of the knights and other members of the Order as they went about their business. A short time later the old man returned. 

"The Chapter Master will see you sir." The man said. 

"Thank you." Charles said as he stood. 

The warden led him down the corridor to a door which he opened for Charles before standing aside, allowing him to enter before shutting the door behind him. While the room was a bit more richly decorated with carpet, a window, and a bookshelf filled with books along one wall the remainder of the room was still fairly frugal in nature. Behind the plain desk sat a middle-aged man still in his prime with broad shoulders, a fringed beard, and a mop of brown hair. His dark eyes sized up Charles in a moment before speaking. 

"How can the Order of St. George help you this morning sir?" He asked in his baritone voice. 

"I wished to speak with you about hiring some of your men." Charles replied, noting with slight irritation that there was no chair for him to sit in, forcing him to stand. 

The man cocked his head to the side slightly, his eyes narrowing. "You presume much, sir, to think us little more than hired mercenaries or servants." He replied, his tone becoming gruff. 

"Enlighten me then." Charles replied, unruffled by the man's tone. "What, exactly, does your Order do?" 

"You come to us asking for services without even knowing our purpose?" The Chapter Master asked with a piercing look. "Are you a fool or do you take me for one?" 

Charles spread his hands. "Please, I meant no disrespect. It was recommended that I come here for help but before today I did not know your organization existed." 

The man hummed a bit. "Well I suppose we do rather keep to ourselves." He admitted with a bit of a huff. "Tell me of your need then. Why do you wish to hire my Vestals and Knights?" 

Charles retrieved the two letters from his pocket and handed them wordlessly to the man. Blinking, the 

Chapter Master took them from him and began to read the letters. Several times his eyebrows raised in surprise as he read them before setting them on his desk and leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. A few moments later he refocused on Charles. 

"Do you have any reason to believe these claims are false?" He asked with a bit of challenge in his voice. 

Charles shook his head. "My Grandfather was not the type to jest. Never have I received a note from him such as this. I fear something terrible has happened." 

"Yes, the letters make that plain." The man sighed. "Have you considered the possibility that this may be a lure? That some enemy of yours or your family's is attempting to ensnare or trap you?" 

Charles shrugged. "I have no enemies as far as I know, though I suppose it's possible Grandfather could have made a few if what he has done is true. But that is all the more reason..." 

"That you would need our aid, yes." The Chapter Master said, finishing the thought. "I suppose then that it is best that you were sent to us." 

"How so?" Charles asked. 

"The Knightly Order of St. George is one of the more militant orders of the Church." The man explained, steepling his hands in front of him. "We are, after all, named after the legendary knight who slew a dragon. Our sacred duty is the destruction of evil and to prevent its spread throughout the world. We have chapters in other countries as well. Normally our duties amount to little more than exposing frauds and hawkers who prey on people with less than legitimate practices, though we do occasionally find true dens of wickedness to prosecute. Sadly in recent years we have been forced to take on assignments for coin but even still we choose them carefully. We are not merely swords for hire. However, assuming this letter is true, this could very well be a crusade in the truest sense of the word, the very thing for which our Order was formed to fight." 

"So you will help me then?" Charles asked intently. 

The man nodded. "I will have one of our Crusaders travel with you to provide security and assess the situation when he arrives. If he confirms the contents of the letter I will dispatch one of our Vestals to help with the assignment." 

Charles nodded. "I appreciate your help in this matter sir. Not that I doubt the stoutness of your men of course but I would prefer to have more than one man at my side should we run into bandits or highwaymen along the way." 

The man quirked an eyebrow at this as he smiled faintly. "I take no offense sir. Funny you should mention highwaymen for I think I may have a solution to your request." 

"And that would be?" Charles asked curiously. 

"In this line of work, sir, you come to know the underside of this city rather well. Something that is slightly less known than our public work is the fact that we keep our ear to the ground and occasionally employ men whom...well let us say that they are trying to do the Light's work in order to redeem themselves from misdeeds done in the past. I take it you will keep that bit of information to yourself?" He insisted with a sharp look. 

Charles nodded. "I shall be the very soul of discretion sir. As you were saying?" 

The Chapter Master nodded. "As I was saying I know of a highwayman who frequents a nearby establishment. He is not the most pleasant of fellows but his heart is in the right place and he has been looking for work. If you go to the Galloping Stallion a block down the street, speak with the barkeep. His name is Tobias and he should be able to point you to Cassius Dismas, the man I spoke of." 

Charles nodded. "I thank you for your help sir. I pray that nothing comes of this matter but I fear otherwise." 

The Chapter Master nodded as he rose. "Planning for the worse while hoping for the best is a good model to live by. There is one other matter that I need to inform you of before I can release one of my men to you. We do, out of necessity, charge a fee for our services. These men are trained, their swords and armor provided by the Church, but we still must lodge and feed them. 20 shillings a week should cover the cost of him." 

Charles grimaced slightly but nodded. He had his own savings of course as the firm paid a decent wage but hopefully he would be able to find some coinage in the old manor to help supplement the cost. He had no wish to make himself penniless just trying to correct his Grandfather's mistakes. 

"Good." The man replied as he crossed the room. "Come, I will introduce you to the Crusader who will travel with you." 

Charles nodded and followed the man out of the room. They walked down the hallway to an outdoor area where several men were sparring with swords. 

"Winters!" The Chapter Master shouted over the din. 

One of the figures in full plate mail stepped back from the practice field and began walking towards them, sheathing his sword and removing his helmet as he went. The man was tall with a lean face and shoulder length jet black hair with cloudy blue eyes and a firm mouth. 

"This is Reynauld Winters." The Chapter Master said to Charles before turning to Reynauld. "Winters, this man has need of your services. You should be thankful, this could very well turn out to be a true and just cause should things pan out as we expect." 

"Thank you for this honor Chapter Master, I shall do the Order proud." The man replied, almost as if by rote. 

_I suppose he's said the same thing hundreds of times no matter where he's told to go._ Charles thought a bit morosely. "Charles Ezekiel." He said, extending his hand. 

"Reynauld Winters." The man replied plainly, carefully removing his gauntlet before shaking Charles's hand. "Might I ask what this matter pertains to sir?" 

"Charles has some other matters to attend to." The Chapter Master stated. "I will discuss it with you in private shortly. Where should Winters meet you sir, and when?" He asked Charles. 

"1145 Newbury Road." Charles replied. "I have yet to acquire a carriage for the trip, I hope to have one ready by tomorrow morning as I wish to depart as soon as I have packed and made arrangements." 

The Chapter Master nodded. "I will have Winters arrive on your doorstep tomorrow morning just after dawn then. Unless you have any questions or concerns I believe that concludes our business." 

Charles nodded. "A good day to both of you." 

Leaving the two men and the practice yard behind he made his way back to the main entrance and walked out into the bustling street. Looking about he made his way down the street to the pub the Chapter Master had mentioned. Walking inside he sat down at the bar. A moment later the slightly rotund barkeep with beefy arms and thick mustache stood in front of him. 

"What'll ya have?" He asked in a bored tone. 

"I'm actually looking for someone." Charles replied. "A Mr. Dismas?" 

"Dunno anybody by that name." The man replied immediately. "Must have the wrong place." 

Charles smiled slightly at this. "The Chapter Master asked me to speak with him. I'm not here to get him in trouble. On the contrary, I'd like to offer him a job." 

"Why does a fancy bloke like you need 'em?" The barkeep asked, apparently dispensing with the thin subterfuge. 

"I'd say that's my business, isn't it?" Charles replied in a slightly clipped tone. "I'm sure the man can take care of himself if I'm not who I say I am, being a highwayman and all." 

The barkeep frowned slightly at Charles's defiant tone but nodded. "'e normally comes by in an hour or two. Keeps to the back corner. Come back then. And I'll be tellin' 'em you're lookin' for him so don't get any ideas about bringin' 'elp." 

"I'm not exactly bobbie material am I?" Charles asked in amusement, glancing down at his outfit. "Rest assured I have no intention of bringing the police with me. Thank you." He said, standing up and leaving a few pence on the bar before walking out. 

Charles spent the time catching a carriage to a rental establishment where he ordered a trip coach for the long journey, large enough to comfortably hold a few people and their luggage. Securing the carriage's services for the next morning he then stopped at the local post to write out some short letters to his various acquaintances, letting them know he would be out of the city for the foreseeable future. Returning to the pub a few hours later he found the barkeep Tobias wiping down a mug. Noticing Charles the man walked over to him. 

"'e's in the corner over there." He said, gesturing discreetly with a finger. "Watch y'self," Tobias cautioned, "'e ain't lost none o' his skills with a pistol." 

"Good." Charles replied calmly. "I'm counting on that." 

Turning his back on the barkeep he walked over to the corner table. The man was dressed in a dark overcoat with a furred grey fringe around the collar, partially covering a red scarf and plain shirt underneath. He work dark workman's pants and boots and his hands were covered with a pair of reddish gloves. The man's face was young but showing lines of a hard life with ridges and slowly thinning black hair. 

"Cassius Dismas?" Charles asked politely as he arrived at the table. 

"Maybe." The man stated, gazing at him shrewdly with dark eyes. "Depends on who's askin'." 

"I believe our good barkeep informed you that I was looking for you at the request of the Chapter Master of St. George." Charles pointed out quietly. 

"He might have said sumthin' like that." Dismas hedged, eyeing Charles distrustfully. "But we don't have no business so far as I know." 

"Ah but that's what I'd like to talk to you about." Charles said with a smile as he dropped a copper coin on the table. "If you're interested of course. If you have plenty of work flowing in then I won't bother you further." 

The man's hand swept across the table quickly, the coin vanishing. "Every little bit helps." He admitted grudgingly. "Sit." 

"Thank you." Charles said, seating himself on the wooden stool opposite the man. 

"So what business is this that you're wantin' to hire me?" Dismas asked carefully. "You need someone dead or robbed? I don't do that sort o' thing no more." 

"So the Chapter Master tells me." Charles replied. "That's one reason why he recommended you. I'm travelling north and I need someone to help guard me on the trip and possibly while I'm there." 

Dismas nodded. "Guard duty I can do. You expectin' trouble?" 

Charles shrugged. "Hopefully not but I can't say. Better to be safe." 

"True enough." Dismas admitted. "So I be guardin' you and your bags. Anybody else?" 

"I did hire a Crusader from the Order as well and he'll be travelling with us." Charles replied. "Do you have a problem with that?" 

"So long as he don't preach the whole way or start slanderin' me with his tongue, won't be no problem." The man replied with a snort of derision. 

Charles nodded. "Good. We're in agreement then." 

"Not quite yet Mister." Dismas replied. "You still ain't told me what you're payin' me for this. I don' work for free you know." 

"Quite true, my apologies. Does 10 shillings a day sound like a fair deal?" 

Dismas blinked before mastering his face. "So long as you pay me right, sounds more than fair. Keep a roof over me head for a while at least once I get back." 

Charles nodded. "I may need to keep you on longer as there may be some...unpleasant elements that need to be taken care of. Rest assured if they are what I think they are you will have no trouble dispatching them." 

"I'll be makin' that decision, won't I?" Dismas retorted. "If I see anythin' funny about this whole thing you give me my pay and I walk! Got it?" 

"So long as you don't leave me to the mercy of bandits or possible former associates on the way there that's fine." Charles replied. 

Dismas nodded. "We have a deal then." He said, offering his hand which Charles shook. 

"My address." Charles said, offering him a piece of paper. "Be there tomorrow morning by dawn, I want to get an early start." 

Dismas nodded, tucking the paper away in a pocket. 

"One more thing, I realize you may not have the means but if you can make yourself a bit more...presentable before you arrive. I would not have my neighbors thinking you kidnapped me." 

"With a Crusader at your side and you're worried abou' that?" Dismas asked incredulously, barking a laugh. "I'll try and gussy meself up for your Honor but I ain't makin' promises. Like you said, money's been tight." 

"Understandable." Charles said with a nod as he stood. "Until tomorrow then." 

"'Morrow." Dismas nodded as Charles departed, the highwayman carefully sliding his flintlock pistol back into his pocket from where he'd hidden it under the table out of sight. 


	3. The Old Road

“Old man must’a gone round the twist somethin’ fierce to pull some crazy crap like this.” Dismas muttered quietly as he put down the two letters, having just read them. “You sure this ain’t some joke?”

Charles shook his head. “The Chapter Master suggested the same but as I told him, my Grandfather was not one for jokes or pranks in the slightest. I have every reason to believe what he wrote is true, if perhaps a bit flamboyant.” 

“What the soddin’ hell have I got meself into?” Dismas asked himself quietly with a shake of his head. “If I’d known it was gonna be this kinda joyride I might’a skipped it.” 

“Come now.” Reynauld said with a sardonic smile, sitting beside Charles. “Where is your spirit of adventure? The smiting of hateful foes and returning home in glory?” 

Dismas snorted. “This ain’t no fairytale book and even if it were, in those stories ya get sent home in a long wood box more oft’ than not. I just wanna collect my pay at the end o’ this and come home with all me limbs intact.” 

“Well I suppose that is a reasonable aim in itself.” Reynauld admitted with a smile. 

The small group had been on the road for the last day and a half. Both men had shown up on time as had the carriage along with its driver. Dismas had at least made the attempt to make himself presentable by wearing clean clothes and enunciating properly though his still wore his overcoat and gloves. The Crusader had come dressed in his armor with a long purple cloth covering the front of it, the symbol of the Light stitched into the fabric. The carriage had been quickly packed and the house locked up before they set off through the city. The trip through London had been uneventful with both men occasionally pointing out places of interest they had been to over the years. The first day’s travel was entirely uneventful as they traveled well known roads and often passed by other carriages on other errands. Stopping at a small town for the night they had spent the time peacefully, taking in the rustic and clean air of the country before retiring. The next day was much the same as they travelled through leagues of open farmland dotted by animals and the occasional town where they reprovisioned themselves. During the trip Charles got to know the two of them a little better. Thankfully Reynauld was not as uptight as Charles feared he might be. The man was fairly down to earth and not obsessed with holiness in others though he did consider himself a God-fearing warrior of the light. Dismas had an even more pragmatic view of the world as he was mainly interested in his own self-interest but as the Chapter Master had said, the man was trying to turn his life around by taking only jobs that were morally upright. As the sun was beginning to set the older driver whom the rental firm had commissioned to drive them called back to them. 

“We’re nearing the hamlet good sirs! Just a mile or two now! Can see it in the distance!” 

Acknowledging the man from the window Charles sat back with a smile. “Well gentlemen, I’m pleased to see that things have gone exceptionally smoothly so far. Perhaps we needn’t worry after all?” 

Dismas shrugged. “Fine by me. Free coin for a easy ride up and down the countryside ain’t the wors’ job in the world.” 

“The note did say that conditions on the hamlet road were perhaps more troublesome.” Reynauld said pensively. “I would not let down our guard just yet.” 

Dismas nodded, glancing out the window with a sharp eye. The road, which before had been relatively smooth became much rougher as the cobblestones had become uneven and overgrown. 

“F-f-feel l-like m-me teeth are g-g-gonna f-f-all out of m-me head!” The highwayman exclaimed with a grimace. “B-b-bloody r-road!” 

“It is -oof!- rather disagreeable.” Reynauld said as a particularly hard knock caused him to smack his head against the ceiling of the carriage. 

The sun continued to slowly creep towards the horizon as they endured the rough road, filling the cabin with dusky light. Suddenly a loud gunshot was heard and the horses began to gallop while neighing loudly, causing the carriage to jolt about. 

“Bloody ‘ell!” Dismas swore as he quickly retrieved his knife and flintlock from his pockets. “Should’a known it was too easy!” 

“Time to earn our pay.” Reynauld replied grimly as he quickly attached his helmet to his breastplate and back armor before readying his sword. Suddenly the driver cried out with a loud wail as a second musket shot was heard from the trees. The group looked out the carriage window in time to see the man’s body fall to the ground, the carriage wheels missing him by inches. Wild now and out of control the horses began to stampede frantically, making the carriage bounce back and forth, ironically making it a harder target for the brigands to hit. More buckshot and musket balls pelted the carriage walls making the men duck down with Reynauld covering Charles with his armored body as one of the paned windows shattered, spraying glass across the cabin. 

“Bloody brigands!” Dismas shouted angrily as he covered his eyes with his arm to ward away some of the glass. He quickly covered his lower face with his scarf before aiming out the window and firing. 

“Are you mad?” Reynauld asked angrily. “You’ll never get a good shot off like that!” 

“They don’t know that do they?” Dismas replied firmly as he reloaded his weapon with gun powder using a small hand pump he had retrieved from an inner pocket. “And now they know we’re armed. Might scare ‘em off!” 

“I highly doubt it.” Reynauld remarked caustically as he peered out the window only to jerk his head back with an angry hiss as a musket ball zipped through the broken window and imbedded itself in the ceiling. 

Several moments later one of the carriage wheels slammed into a small sink hole in the road, wrenching it out of alignment and making the entire coach shake violently as it swerved back and forth. 

“Hold on!” Shouted Dismas. 

“Trying to!” Reynauld retorted as he stuck his head out the window again. Underneath his helmet his eyes widened as he saw the horses stampeding towards a thick row of trees just off the road. 

“Out! Now!” He shouted, grabbing Charles and smashing the door open with his mailed boot. Leaping out of the carriage he wrapped his arms around Charles, landing on his back and allowing his armor to cushion the impact. They skidded across the stones with a screech of metal with Charles lying on top of him. An instant later Dismas leaped from the coach, tumbling across the stones with his hands over his head. Seconds later the horses broke free from their harnesses and ran into the woods leaving the carriage to smash against the trees, toppling it over and dumping the luggage the group had brought with them. 

Dismas quickly stood and dusted himself off as Reynauld helped Charles to his feet. 

“Are you injured sir?” Reynauld asked him in concern. 

Charles checked himself over quickly and shook his head. “Everything seems to be in working order. I suppose we shall have to walk from here.” 

“Shall we take the road?” Reynauld asked, glancing up the cobbled road. 

Looking around Charles shook his head. “Brigands have run up these lanes. Better to keep to the side paths. The hamlet is just ahead.” 

“Where are they?” Reynauld asked in concern, looking about. 

“That last race with the horses might have done us a favor.” Charles remarked. “We seem to have outpaced them for the moment.” 

“More like lyin’ in wait If I’m any judge.” Dismas disagreed, keeping his weapons ready as his eyes scanned the tree lines. “We’d best move. Leave the luggage, only slow us down. This way!” 

The trio quickly ran down one of the smaller trails leading through the woods. Looking about they saw that the woods themselves had become horribly overgrown with strange plants and oddly colored fungi covering several fallen trees. Here and there they could see various grave markers at bent angles, some ready to fall over entirely. Several minutes later as they neared a collection of tall grave stones capped with a bent and cloaked stone figure covering its face in sorrow a man appeared in their path wearing a deep green hood and leather armor, a pair of short swords gripped in his hands. 

“Once I’m done wit’ you lot I’ll pick through all them lovely bags you got back there.” He jeered. “I’m sure I can find somethin’ nice for meself. Lucky me that I found you lot first.” 

Charles grit his teeth at the man’s presumptuousness as a cold feeling of hate washed over him. “Lucky? I think not. Dismas? Reynauld? Dispatch this thug in brutal fashion so that all will hear of our arrival.” He ordered. 

“Wit’ pleasure Guv’ner.” Dismas replied with a smirk as Reynauld readied his sword. 

Wasting no time Reynauld ran forward, slashing at the bandit with his sword. The man jumped back before darting forward, trying to slash at the pair. Dismas twisted out of the way while the other sword clanged against Reynauld’s armor, making him stumble. Recovering, the Crusader quickly slashed with his sword. The man attempted to clumsily parry the unexpectedly furious attack only to get slashed deeply in the shoulder. Reynauld’s mailed boot smashed into his side, knocking him back. A moment later Dismas’s pistol barked, the shot hitting the man in the eye, killing him. Dismas walked over as the man fell and quickly slit his throat before rifling through the man’s pockets. 

“What are you doing?” Reynauld asked in a scandalized tone. 

“Collectin’ me pay.” Dismas replied flatly, fishing some coins out of the man’s pocket. “I ain’t workin’ for free am I? Besides, he don’t need it no more and neither do ‘is friends.” 

Reynauld turned away with a huff as they continued down the path. A few minutes later they came across a small lean-to tent the bandit had been using for cover. Dismas found more coin within the sleeping roll before they quickly moved on. The group quickly moved through the underbrush, the small hamlet getting closer in the distance. As they reached a small clearing two men stepped from the trees. One was a massive brute of a man easily taller than all of them. His broad chest was covered in scars and chiseled muscle and he bore a lash in his hand. At his hip was a flintlock. His pants and hood were deep green and a massive belt encircled his waist. The man next to him was average sized with a similar hood and clothes though this one held a musket in his hands. 

The trio stopped as they appraised each other before Dismas spoke up. “I know you daft dolts won’t listen but I’ll be sayin’ it anyway. Don’t be doin’ nothin’ stupid. We just butchered ya friend back there with nary a scratch on us. You sods think you can take on a bloke in armor and me at the same time?” He asked challengingly, a hard glint in his eye as he raised his pistol. 

The larger man chuckled deeply. “I’ll be usin’ that sword to pick me teeth shortly.” He replied. 

The musketeer immediately raised his weapon and fired. Charles hit the ground, the buckshot whizzing over his head, the rest of it pelting Reynauld’s armor and leaving scoring marks. Dismas’s pistol roared, hitting both men with grapeshot and making them stagger back. A second later Reynauld slashed at the larger man opening a gash on his left arm. The brute staggered back with a yell of pain before whipping his arm forward, lashing at Reynauld. The metal balls attached to the ends of the cords slammed against his helmet, staggering him back. Taking advantage of the distraction Dismas leaped forward, his dirk in his hand. The knife flashed in the fading light slicing the man’s hand and making him drop the lash. As the brute turned to attack Dismas Reynauld stabbed at the musketeer who had prepared another shot. The man’s frantic shot went wild as the Crusader’s sword buried itself in the man’s gut. Yanking his sword out the knight punched the man in the face with his gauntlet, knocking him to the ground as blood began to pour from his perforated bowels. Behind him the brute yelled in anger as Dismas scored another shallow cut. The man’s fist whipped across his body, catching Dismas in the head and knocking him back. Yanking his flintlock from his hip the brigand fired a quick shot at the former highwayman from point blank range, catching him in the side. Reynauld yelled in fury as he slashed at the brigand’s neck, the blade embedding itself in the brute’s spine with a _crack_. Blood began to flow from the behemoth’s mouth as he slowly fell to his knees before falling to the ground face first with a _thud_. Ensuring the man was dead Reynauld quickly moved to check Dismas. 

“Are you alright?” He asked urgently. 

“Been better.” The man grunted, pressing his hand to his side. “Bloody ball’s still in there, don’t feel too deep though. Coat helped some and that cannon weren’t exactly new. Should be able to -errk!- yank it out I ‘spect.” He said, hissing in pain. 

Charles quickly came up to him and they helped the struggling man to his feet. As the left the clearing they noticed a chest sitting innocently against a tree. 

“I don’t suppose we should…?” Charles asked hesitantly. 

“No time.” Dismas grunted. “‘sides, knowin’ that lot, they prob’ly trapped it. Nasty business.” 

The group continued to stagger their way through the overgrown woods until they finally came to the edge of the forest next to a sluggishly-flowing river. An old stone bridge allowed access across and beyond sat a dilapidated collection of buildings that were in various stages of falling apart. The three of them stared silently for a moment with Charles’s eyes wide in disbelief. 

_This is the village I left behind as a child?_ He thought incredulously. _It can’t be! How could they let this happen? Still, if what Grandfather said was true…_

As the group slowly staggered across the bridge a man came out from one of the buildings and began walking towards them. As he approached they took in his appearance in vague dread. The man was lean and easily in his sixties with balding unkempt brown hair that stuck out at all angles from the sides of his head. He was dressed in a drab long coat with buttons along the wide cuffs and collar similar to the one Charles’ grandfather had worn with trim around the edges. His shirt was hidden by a vest of the same color and his eyes were sunken deeply into his head. His beard was wild and as he grinned at them in a rather unhinged way they noticed his teeth were yellow and crooked. 

“Ah! Young master Charles!” The man wheezed, his breath fetid as he drew close to the man. “Welcome home...such as it is! This squalid hamlet, these corrupted lands! They are yours now and you are bound to them!” He grinned with a mad gleam in his eye as he gestured to the run down village with a hand. “Such a tragic end to my Lord, your Grandfather! Tragic…” He trailed off, gazing at him expectantly. 

“Umm...thank you, I think.” Charles replied hesitantly. “Forgive me but…” 

“Oh! You don’t remember old Williams?” He asked in a disappointed tone before suddenly cheering up with a manic smile. “But of course you were but a lad! The Caretaker of this place I have been for many years, yes! Oh so long! So long!” He wailed, his face becoming agonizing for a moment before shaking himself and smiling at them again. “Oh! But I am being selfish! Your friend, he needs help yes? Come! Come! Inside! This way!” He insisted, gesturing for them to follow him as he walked carefully up the dirt road. 

“Rather...take me chances...with the musket ball.” Dismas groaned quietly. 

“Chin up.” Reynauld replied softly. “He may be a bit off his rocker but he does not appear to mean us harm and he is offering us aid.” 

“Bloody wonderful.” The highwayman grumbled as they made their way to a small house at the edge of the town. 

As they looked about Charles became more and more dismayed at what he saw. The village was in near ruins with most of the buildings boarded up and few lights coming from them. The ground was washed out and seemingly dead with only packed dirt and mud to be found. The few people he saw wandering about the houses seemed listless and completely apathetic to their circumstances as if the fight had been beaten out of them, leaving nothing but empty shells behind. As they entered the Caretaker’s lodgings they carefully lay Dismas down on the rickety bed where he sighed in relief. 

“We’ll need supplies to dig the ball out and prevent the wound getting infected.” Reynauld told them. “What do you have on hand?” He asked the Caretaker. 

The man wordlessly showed him to a storage room where various odds and ends sat on shelves. Reynauld quickly grabbed a pair of long-nosed pliers as well as bandages, medicinal herbs, and a vial of shining liquid sealed in wax. Returning to Dismas he found Charles in the process of opening his shirt to more easily view the wound. 

“Carefully, we don’t want him to bleed to death.” Reynauld cautioned. 

“I ain’t...that bad off yet.” Dismas retorted roughly. “You lot -erk!- act like I ain’t never been -ah!- shot before!” 

Charles grimaced at that before revealing the bloody hole in the man’s side. Reynauld peered at it and carefully probed the wound before nodding. 

“A simple shot straight in, looks like it got lodged against your rib. Should be a simple matter to extract it.” 

“Me coat’s saved me...more than once.” He replied. “Added some special padding in it...works like armor. Not -ow!- great armor mind but...better than nothin’.” 

Reynauld nodded as he broke the seal on the vial of liquid and carefully dipped the ends of the pliers into it, making the mixture bubble slightly. 

“What is that?” Charles asked curiously. 

“Holy water blessed by a true servant of the Light.” Reynauld replied. “Among its various properties are the ability to cleanse corruption and taint from an object. It won’t remove dirt or normal material but it will ensure the material is pristine.” 

Removing the pliers from the vial he then patted some of the powdered herbs on the ends to clean the tool further before he knelt and began to carefully insert them into the hole. Dismas grit his teeth with a hiss as the Crusader gently wiggled the ends of the pincers around the round ball and began to slowly ease it out. A moment later the ball came free and the wound began to bleed freely. Moving quickly he poured the remainder of the vial into the wound directly making it fizzle before pressing a bandage coated with the herbs against the wound before wrapping the rest of the roll around his chest and tying it off. 

“There.” Reynauld said with a smile. “The holy water will cleanse whatever infection might have begun and will also aid in healing. The herbs will keep it clean while the wound closes. A few days and you should be good as new.” 

“Good to know.” Dismas grimaced. “I’ll be stayin’ here for the rest of the day I think.” 

“Ah! Good, good!” The Caretaker exclaimed happily. “The young master’s servant is doing better! Good, yes, very good, you will need your strength in the days ahead!” He assured them with a serious nod. 

Charles turned to him. “We were forced to leave our belongings behind on the road due to our coach being attacked. We’ll need help retrieving them.” 

“A carriage we have master, yes!” The man assured him with a nod. “Rather rickety and worn but still works! Still works! Bags I can get but I will need help. Your man in armor I think. He will keep the meanies away while I stow the bags?” He asked. 

Reynauld looked at the man oddly but nodded. “I will guard you while we collect our belongings.” 

“Good! Good!” The Caretaker cried enthusiastically. “Back in no time we will be with all the lovely trinkets and nick-nacks!” 

“Well that’s one problem solved.” Charles said. “I also need to be brought up to speed on what’s been happening here while we visit the manor.” 

“The manor?” The Caretaker asked fearfully, his mood suddenly changing. “Oh young master no! Not the manor! You are not ready yet! No indeed not!” 

Charles frowned at the man’s agitation. “What do you mean ‘not ready’? Who do you presume you’re talking to?” 

“The letters young master! Did you not receive them?” He asked, his voice becoming more frantic and shrill. “But of course you must have or you would not be here but then how you could ask what your servant means by ‘not ready’? Oh dear!” He exclaimed, wringing his hands as he paced back and forth. 

“Will you please sit down and tell me what’s been going on here?” Charles asked in exasperation. 

The man immediately sat down on the floor with a _thump_ , surprising the trio, before the Caretaker looked up at them with haunted eyes. 

“The Evil master!” He whispered intently, staring at Charles. “The Horrors! The madness my Lord unleashed! The portal, master, did he not speak of the portal he found?!” 

“His letter mentioned a portal yes but he was rather vague in the details.” Charles replied. 

“When my Lord opened the portal,” he moaned as he began to rock back and forth, clutching his head in his hands, “when the foulness came through!...they were!...No! No! I daren’t say! No words master, no words!” He stared up at Charles, his eyes wide with naked fear and despair. “Nightmares! Nightmares made of flesh! But not even nightmares could be so...so...I saw them master! flesh that screams and rends!” He cried. “Bones that walk! Monsters! Madness! THINGS!” He screamed, utterly disconsolate. “THINGS THAT--” Words failed the man at that moment as he let out a wail of absolute despondency and misery that made the trio’s blood run cold. 

Unable to bear more Charles wrapped his arms around the old man as he knelt next to him while the poor servant sobbed in fear and hopelessness. Finally after several minutes the sobs subsided and the Caretaker took several deep breaths. Slowly looking up at Charles he stared into his eyes with naked pleading. “Fix it master?” He begged quietly, like a fearful child with a parent. “Make it all better again? Like it was before?” 

Charles’s heart broke at the pitiful state of the man and his aching request. But a moment later he felt strength like steel fill him and a determination that was unbreakable. He would not let this man, his people, down. No matter the cost he would ensure the foulness this man feared would be banished back into the hells which spawned it forever. 

“You have my word!” Charles swore fiercely and for a moment he thought he saw a glimmer of hope in the man’s deranged eyes. 


	4. New Additions

“Now this is what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Dismas smiled as pawed through the bag of glittering coins.

A hand smacked down on the velvet bag, making the highwayman jerk back as Charles pulled it out of reach. “I’ll thank you not to touch part of my family’s fortune like a hungry dog searching for a bone.” The man snapped as he moved the bag to the other side of the desk he was sitting at. “We’ll be needing it and more besides I fear.” 

The pair were sitting in the office of the Lord’s house in the center of the town, the building being one of the few that had been kept in relative repair compared to the rest. The homes of the townsfolk had been better taken care of but most of the structures that made up the hamlet’s business such as the guild hall, tavern, and blacksmith, had been eyesores. While Dismas had remained at the Caretaker’s to heal Charles had walked about the town, letting all of the people know who he was and why he had come. Most had been somewhat happy to see a fresh face and the fact that he was the Lord’s Heir, and apparently in his right mind, made many smile, though somewhat hesitantly. The pub master and the Abbot of the abbey had agreed to start putting things in order to cater to Dismas’s and Reynauld’s needs while the Crusader had traveled up the road to examine the ruins of the old cathedral that had once stood between the manor and the hamlet. Charles himself had begun putting the Lord’s house in order and had discovered, amongst other things, a bag of coins worth about 5,000 Sovereigns hidden away. A hard day’s work had turned the office and its adjacent sleeping room into decent enough lodgings and Charles had been in the process of going through some old deeds he had found as well. 

“Needin’ more?” Dismas asked with a bit of incredulousness. “The Lord o’ the Treasury ‘imself don’t make that much in a year!” 

Charles shook his head. “And how do you expect to put the town back in order? We will need to hire more workmen from nearby towns and purchase supplies such as lumber. All of them will need wages and all those supplies will need to be shipped here. If Reynauld returns with a bad report we will need to hire others to help us clear out the darkness here and that will mean advertisements in the papers and compensation for travel, not to mention food and their own wages. None of it will be cheap. I only hope some of my family’s fortune still exists somewhere in the manor or in those ruins.” 

“We will definitely need the Vestal.” Reynauld informed them unhappily as he entered the room without fanfare. “And probably several more stout men at the very least.” 

_Oh dear._ Charles sighed mentally. “Let’s hear it then.” He replied. 

“As expected the ruins of the cathedral are just that though the masons who built it did their work well enough, I doubt the place will collapse on us.” 

“Never mind the stonework, what’s goin’ on in there?” Dismas asked in annoyance. 

“I dared not venture far, even before I entered the place I could sense the foulness of evil about it, clinging to every stone and beam like an oily film.” Reynauld said as he sat down in one of the padded chairs in front of the desk. “The air was musty and had an unnatural scent about it. The entryway even had a few skeletons lying about.” 

“You sure it wasn’ just decay from the bones?” Dismas asked. 

Reynauld shook his head. “I know what death and decay smells like. There was that faint scent in the air as well but...no. It was something more than that. Something that made my hackles rise. But stranger still were the candles.” 

Charles frowned. “What about them?” 

“They were lit.” Reynauld replied with a grim look. 

Charles blinked at this. “I fail to see...” 

“I do.” Dismas interrupted. “Nobody lights candles in a ruin ‘less they’re workin’ or livin’ in it. The folk round here don’t go near the place and everywhere else is deserted. So who lit them candles?” He asked Charles with a pointed look. 

“More to the point, the fact that whatever evil resides there can light them means they are intelligent, at least somewhat.” Reynauld stated ominously. “Evil in itself is bad enough but evil with intelligence is truly a foe to be feared.” 

“Surely you gentlemen are overstating this just a bit?” Charles suggested uneasily, looking at the two of them. 

The two men glared back at him wordlessly. 

“You wished for my report and I have given it.” Reynauld stated quietly with a hint of irritation. “What you choose to do with it is your own affair.” 

Charles sighed and shook his head. “My apologies, I did not mean to suggest...what you describe is frightening and I had hoped....” 

“As had I.” Reynauld replied, his tone softening a bit. “While I am prepared to fight evil wherever it may be, I am always glad to learn that the situation is not as terrible as I fear. In this case, however…” 

“We got our work cut out for us.” Dismas replied with a sigh. 

“With your permission I shall send a missive to the Chapter Master informing him of the situation and request aid.” He recommended as he stood. “We must have people here as soon as possible if we are to stop this evil before it grows even more powerful.” 

Charles nodded and the man took his leave with a respectful nod. 

A moment after the door had shut behind the Crusader Dismas sighed quietly, his face pensive. “Had plenty of time to fester already, it has. Light knows what’s down there.” 

“I fear we will find out all too soon.” Charles suggested in the same tone, gazing blankly at the papers in front of him. 

The next few days passed with Charles and Reynauld assisting the Abbot in cleaning the abbey. The cobwebs were dusted, the pews set straight, and the candles were lit once again. While the building itself was still in shambles it was at least serviceable. 

“We are fortunate to have a responsible young man such as yourself take over the care of this place.” The old Abbot said as he showed Charles the building, Reynauld having returned to the tavern to help out there. “I thought the Light had utterly forsaken this place when your Grandfather...achieved his ambitions.” 

“You needn’t shy away from speaking bluntly.” Charles assured him quietly. “From everything I’ve seen and heard my Grandfather obviously went quite mad before unleashing these horrors. I cannot believe it and yet I must. But I cannot fault you for harboring ill will or hatred towards him. If I had been there...” 

“But you are here now and even that give the people of this hamlet a glimmering of hope.” The man replied, stroking his short white beard. “And we need all the hope we can muster in these dark days.” 

As they passed by a pair of rooms Charles peeked into them. One contained an incense burner and soft pillows while the other was almost dungeon-like with various whips and blunt objects lying on a table along with a hard bench in the middle of the room. 

“What manner of places are these doing in a church?” Charles asked him with a confused frown. 

“This church was built to honor the Light and allow those who worship it to congregate.” The Abbot explained, pulling his patchwork robe about him. “But in these latter days we have found that some find peace and forgiveness in other means and we must accommodate them, for to do otherwise would be cruel.” He explained with a hint of regret. “Some reject the Light but find peace in meditation and contemplation. Others find that...physical pain and punishment help to relieve their guilt, whether it is deserved or not. The Light would never ask for such penitence of course, for it is always willing to forgive, but for some such knowledge is not enough. They feel they must punish themselves for what they have done.” The man sighed deeply, his face troubled. “I have tried to minister to them as best I could but hope has been gone from this place for so long...some here are not in their right mind and I do not have the ability to cure them. Thus I am left with no alternative...I give them a measure of privacy and dignity and for a time it helps them be free from the guilt and the anguish. It is scarce comfort but at least for a time they are content. If I can give them that at least...” The man said, his voice breaking as he cried silently, leaning against the stone wall. 

Charles rested his hand on the man’s shoulder in support as he cried silently for several moments. Finally he cleaned his face on his faded robe and turned back to Charles, his eyes still tired but more composed. 

“I cannot imagine how hard it has been for you and for everyone.” Charles said quietly. “To shoulder such burdens and with no one to turn to with your own sorrows...you have done what many could not. You are a great and strong man, Abbot. Never think otherwise. You have all my respect for what you have done here.” 

The man smiled winsomely at this. “Thank you sir. But I am simply a humble servant of the Light, doing what I can. If you can deliver us from this darkness then it is I who will sing your praises to the end of my days.” 

Charles merely shook his head modestly. “I swore to do what I can, and I will. If it is within my power I will cleanse this place.” 

The Abbot let out a quiet laugh at this. “The Light shall cleanse this place with you and those you bring here as its instruments sir. Use what you have to achieve this but do not rely on your own power for men have no power except what the Light grants them.” 

Charles quirked a smile at this. “Is that part of your sermon for the Sunday service?” He asked. 

The Abbot chuckled at this. “Perhaps, good sir, perhaps.” 

That afternoon a carriage pulled into the hamlet, thankfully unmolested by bandits. Charles and Reynauld came out to meet the new arrival as the coach pulled up. 

“I’m glad to see they made it in one piece.” Reynauld remarked. 

“I suppose that little display when we arrived helped.” Charles replied. “But we will need to ensure the roads are cleared as well.” 

The carriage door opened revealing a round-faced and pale young woman dressed in modest brown robes and a hood with a white headband keeping her hair back. Her chest and back were covered with a set of banded armor with spiked shoulder pauldrons and she wore a red sash about her waist upon which hung a spiked mace and holy book. 

“We are glad to see you made it safely, miss…?” Charles asked. 

“Vestal Gerri Boutina.” The woman replied simply with a nod of her head. “You are Charles Ezekiel, yes?” She asked and Charles nodded. 

“This is Crusader Reynauld Winters.” Charles said, gesturing the to the armored man. 

“A pleasure to meet you both.” The woman said with a hint of warmth. 

A moment later a second figure emerged from the carriage. The genderless figure was cloaked from head to toe in heavy robes of brownish-green and a hood with a pair of spiked pauldrons and long gloves. Around the figure’s waist was a belt holding several types of pouches as well as orbs and vials of glass. Covering the person’s face was a beaked bone-white mask with dark eyeholes signifying their profession as a plague doctor. 

“Hannah Bellecoat.” The figure stated plainly, her voice muffled slightly by the wrappings around her chin and mouth. “I was contacted by the Chapter Master of St. George to accompany Vestal Boutina to this town to assist in ensuring it is free from plague and other disease.” Looking about at the state of the town she turned back to them. “I can certainly see why. I’ll be surprised if I can find any healthy people at all here.” 

Charles frowned at the insinuation and the woman’s cool tone but held his tongue. “We appreciate any assistance, of course.” He said. “The Chapter Master was wise to send the two of you here as I’m sure we will need both your services.” 

“The Chapter Master explained the situation here at least in general.” The plague doctor stated. “Apparently I am to assist in more than just ensuring the people of this town are healthy.” 

“Are you prepared for what we may ask of you?” Charles asked, recognizing a feminine lilt in the person’s voice. “I realize a plague doctor, especially a lady such as yourself may not be used to fighting...especially not the evils that might be found here.” 

The masked woman gazed at him silently for a moment before she spoke. “I am well aware of the danger, the Chapter Master was most insistent that I understand what I might be getting into. I may be a woman but I assure you I am not some high society lady unused to getting my hands dirty.” She stated, showing the discolored spots on her thick gloves. “I’ve walked among the worst slums in London as well as other places just as bad on the continent where disease and foulness run rampant, turning people into horrid mockeries of their former selves. Rest assured,” she finished in a chilly tone, “I am well able to take care of myself.” 

Charles nodded. “My apologies for making assumptions about you Ms. Bellecoat. I shall not do so again.” 

The robed woman nodded brusquely before turning back to the town. “Now then, why don’t we find some place for me to set up shop while you tell me of what’s been going on here?” 

Charles nodded. “An excellent idea. Reynauld, will you help Ms. Boutina settle in?” 

“Certainly.” Reynauld replied before turning to the Vestal. “Please follow me. We’ve been working to make the tavern more habitable and I’ll introduce you to our other associate as well.” 

“Lovely.” Gerri replied, favoring him with a cheery smile. “Perhaps, once the briefings are out of the way we can get to know each other better as well?” She suggested. 

Reynauld raised an eyebrow at this but shrugged as he led her towards the tavern. 

_After all,_ he thought to himself, _the convents are rather cloistered. I doubt she has been around men much since her indoctrination and I have been told my face is pleasing to the eye. I shall have to tread carefully to ensure she does not get the wrong idea._

“So Vestal Boutina, tell me what the Chapter Master explained to you so I can fill you in on the details.” He suggested in what he hoped was a business-like tone. 

Dimpling, Gerri began to speak. “Mainly the Chapter Master spoke about the possibility of there being a very dark evil located here. He showed me your report and I made sure to read it carefully. It was quite thorough.” She said with a quiet compliment in her tone. 

“Thank you.” Reynauld replied flatly as they passed a row of houses. “Tell me, which convent do you hail from?” 

“The Sisters of the Light convent in the northern part of London.” She replied. “Mother Superior specifically suggested that I be sent here to help.” 

Reynauld nodded. “She must have faith in your abilities to send you on such an important assignment as this.” He suggested. 

“Of course.” Gerri replied, looking a bit thoughtful before turning to Reynauld with a smile. “So tell me, how long have you been in the Order?” 

“I was introduced to the Chapter Master when I was still a lad.” The man replied. “My family had decided that I would receive proper training under his tutelage, not to mention discipline.” 

“You were an unruly child?” She teased gently. 

“Once could say that.” He hedged, looking away for a moment. 

Gerri giggled quietly at this. “Come now, you needn’t be ashamed of that. Are not all children unruly at times?” 

“Perhaps.” Reynauld allowed though Gerri could tell he was not convinced. 

“Well, whatever the Chapter Master did, it seems to have done some good.” Gerri said. “You’re quite the fine specimen.” 

Reynauld raised an eyebrow at this. “Of a Crusader.” He stated with a bit of emphasis. 

“Of course.” Gerri demurred, though he could see her gaze suggested otherwise. 

_Light help me._ He sighed in his mind. 

_At the same time…_

“How long has the town been in this state?” Bellecoat asked Charles, her tone all business. 

“I’ve only just arrived a few days ago myself.” Charles admitted. “I’ve been around the town greeting people and trying to put things back in order.” 

“That was your first mistake, in my opinion.” Bellecoat replied frankly. “If these people are diseased you and your companions have almost certainly contracted it. I fail to see how you will be able to help these people if you yourself are suffering from the same illnesses they are.” 

Charles frowned at this. “You certainly don’t mince words do you?” He asked. _I would hate to be on the receiving end of her bedside manner!_

“When a patient’s life is possibly measured in days you don’t have time for flowery speech.” The plague doctor retorted. “My focus here is to ensure no one dies if it can be helped. Whether that be by administering tonics to the sick or murdering wicked plague bearers with my scalpel so be it. I’m of the opinion that amputating a diseased limb to save the body is more important than trying to regenerate the limb and allowing the disease to spread further.” 

“Cold, Doctor, but in this case we may need such an ideology.” Charles replied as they came to a crumbling tower-like structure close to the abbey. “I haven’t yet been in here. Shall we?” 

As they went through the various rooms they found several consisting of a bench with a pair of shackles and a rusting iron door with a grill in the center. There were also a few storage rooms and a room with a front desk. 

“A prison and constabulary of some description, it would seem.” Charles suggested. “The place seems firm enough. Will it do for your purposes?” 

“I suppose.” Bellecoat replied. “It will need quite a bit of cleaning but I’ve worked in worse conditions than this. Once the place is set up I will want to examine each of the townspeople individually to assess their overall health and whether they are infected. Once that is sorted out we can begin working on other matters. It will also give me some time to create some...personal 

mixtures I’ve come up with over the years.” 

“Very well.” Charles said. “Let me know when you are finished setting up. I’ll go about and let people know you will be expecting them.” 

The woman dismissed him with a nod as she began unpacking her boxes filled with various glass jars of powders, liquids, and empty vials. 

The next day was equally busy for all with Reynauld continuing to show Gerri around the town and explaining what her role was to be when cleansing the ruins. Bellecoat was kept busy setting up her equipment and cleaning the various rooms to turn it into a proper apothecary and makeshift hospital should the need arise. Dismas by this time had been healed of his wound and was assisting the pub master in Reynauld’s absence to finish the last bit of repairs and housekeeping chores to make the taverns’ rooms usable if rather spartan. Charles had been writing advertisements to be distributed by the Chapter Master to the local newspapers as well as sending out letters requesting workmen and supplies to help rebuild the town. When he was not ensconced in his office he was walking about the town letting people know that the plague doctor would soon be requesting their presence to inquire about their health. 

Finally as evening fell he called the four of them together in his office. 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, clasping his hands together as he leaned against the desk, “we have gone as far as we can with the repairs. I want to thank all of you for putting in all your hard work, this would have been impossible without you and I appreciate you putting in the extra labor. It speaks well of all of you.” He assured them, glancing around at each of them. 

“Well so far you been payin’ well enough.” Dismas replied with a sigh, propping his feet up on the corner of the desk, making the others glare at him at bit for his presumptuousness. “I s’pose that means tomorrow we start doin’ real work eh?” 

“Frankly I am almost relieved.” Reynauld remarked. “Not that I have anything against manual labor, it is honest work and does the soul good. However I feel my talents have been, if not wasted, not put to their best use.” 

“I believe I’m in agreement.” Hannah said matter-of-factly, for once devoid of her mask. “It’s time we ventured into these ruins to see what is there. The vague fears of an insane Caretaker make for, if you’ll excuse the expression, a poor diagnosis of the truth.” 

Charles nodded. “It is time. Tomorrow we make our first foray into the cathedral. May the Light be with us.” 


	5. A Mecca of Madness and Morbidity

_The next morning..._

“What do you mean we got to pay for this stuff?” Dismas asked in outrage to the Caretaker as the group prepared to embark, the group plus Charles standing in the building next to the Caretaker’s rooms where the general store sat. 

“All these things cost money good sir!” The Caretaker protested anxiously. “Surely I cannot just give them away!” 

“We work for your bloody master!” Dismas retorted angrily. “We’re tryin’ to clear out the bloody ruins your bloody Lord bloody well mucked up ‘cause he was bored one day!” Dismas shouted, slamming his fists on the counter. “What the sodding ‘ell--!” 

“Enough!” Charles barked, interrupting the man’s tirade, before looking at the shivering Caretaker. “While the method of delivery was rather uncouth Dismas does have a point. He should not have to pay for supplies being used for this undertaking, nor should the others since they are here on my orders.” 

“B-but master!” The Caretaker stuttered. “Forgive your poor servant...hasty hasty words maybe to the poor gunman yes!...but--but all the town’s supplies!” He exclaimed weakly. “Can we give them all away? Surely not! Only a few merchants are able to come through to bring the supplies, yes! The bandits!...wretched foul worms they are!...they take much for themselves...the dregs master!...the dregs and leftovers are all we get! Enough to get by with, yes, but we still must pay for the shipments! Money money money sir! They need it and we have so little of the shinies!” The man whined. 

“No wonder you charge such daft prices.” Dismas stated caustically. “Seventy five shillings for a bloody torch? I could make one meself for a few pence! Just get me a stick, some rags, and a bit o’ rum to soak it in!” 

The Caretaker giggled at this. “Oh good sir is a jester indeed! Hee hee hee!” 

“Riiight…” Dismas drawled, keeping a wary eye on the unhinged man. 

“Take what supplies you need and I will purchase more the next time the merchants arrive.” Charles assured them. “Just try not to spend too much; unless we can find some gold or other valuables we can sell from what lies in the ruins we will need to be careful with the money.” 

Nodding Reynauld stepped up to the counter. “Let us bring two torches for each of us and two packs of rations. A pack or two of bandages just to be safe. Tell me, why are you selling keys?” 

“Grandfather had a few types of keys that he would use for his strong boxes and other things.” Charles explained. “I’m assuming you have copies of them?” He asked the Caretaker, gesturing to the small key rack nearby. 

“Yes master I do.” The man said with a vigorous nod. “A few copies of each I have, just in case.” 

“Two of those then.” Reynauld suggested. “Those will doubtless last us awhile.” He smiled. 

“Will we need anything else?” Gerri asked him. 

Reynauld looked over the various other supplies, from medicinal herbs and holy water to vials of anti-venom and the extremely expensive shovels before shaking his head. “I think this will do us for now.” 

Charles handed the money to the Caretaker to be tucked away for later while Reynauld distributed the provisions to the others. Everyone left the store, leaving the Caretaker behind, and walked a little ways towards the bluff where the ruins sat. In the distance, sitting like a mass of skeletal remains against the morning sun was the decrepit structure of the manor itself. 

_A mecca of madness and morbidity._ Charles thought, imagining his grandfather’s voice in a moment of sentiment. _Your work begins._

He looked over at Reynauld. “Explore what you can and kill anything that stands in your way. You will not find anything decent or anyone wholesome in those ruins.” 

“By your orders, milord.” The man said solemnly with a nod before beckoning the others forward. 

About twenty minutes passed with group trudging their way up the winding path that led to the site of the cathedral, the sun slowly rising in the sky. 

  
“What’s this place for anyways?” Dismas asked. “That lot has an abbey in town, why would they need a cathedral too?” 

“Prestige.” Reynauld replied. “In earlier generations landowners used to build small cathedrals on their land to prove their wealth and influence to not only their rivals but the Church as well. The bigger the cathedral, the greater and more influential you were in the eyes of the world.” 

“Sounds like a big dick wavin’ contest to me.” Dismas said with a snort. 

Reynauld frowned at the crude remark but nodded. “To put it bluntly, yes. The aristocracy wished to prove their worth to the Church and thus garner favor with the local Bishop or even the Cardinal when they would tour the countryside as they were wont to do occasionally, not to mention impress visiting dignitaries. Thankfully the practice has fallen into disuse these days. Such wasteful spending in the hopes of garnering political favors with the Clergy has always disgusted me.” 

“Well, ‘opefully we’ll find some nice shinies in there.” Dismas remarked. 

“Is money and material gain all you can think about?” Geri asked snidely. “Who knows what we might find in those ruins? Are you not worried about it?” 

“‘Course not.” Dismas replied dismissively. “Worryin’ won’t do me aim no good. Nor me constitution. I ain’t gonna worry till I see somethin’ to worry ‘bout.” 

“We should not fear.” Bellecoat stated firmly. “We have with us two strong women and a powerful sword arm in Reynauld. That kind of strength can overcome any obstacle!” 

“Oy! What ‘bout me?” Dismas asked indignantly. 

Bellecoat snorted in amusement beneath her mask. “I suppose we must have some comic relief to lift our spirits as we travel.” 

“Bloody wench.” The Highwayman grumbled as they came to the site. 

The massive gothic cathedral was partially fallen down with the majority of the windows broken. Small broken towers jutted up like splintered teeth in the morning light, the structure large enough to cast it own deep and creeping shadow over them. Leering and partially broken gargoyles glared down at them from the cornices as a murder of crows erupted from one of the higher broken windows, cawing raucously as they flew off. The entire structure was overgrown with ivy, weeds, and cobwebs as a tepid wind blew about. The entryway itself was marked by a large arch that had once held the double doors of the cathedral with the remaining walls partially broken or missing entirely, the doors themselves having fallen inwards and lying flat upon the uneven stone floor that was partially sunk into the ground. Inscribed upon the north-facing wall which was the most intact sat a large icon of a round-faced man with a ring of hair around the sides of his head which was itself engulfed in a halo, his hands placed before his face in pious prayer. Before the mural of the saint sat a small offering table with lit candles that fluttered in the slight breeze. Beneath the arched windows next to it sat a pile of bones. 

“I see what you meant about the candles.” Gerri said to Reynauld as they passed over the threshold, the woman’s eyes flicking about. “Very odd that they would be lit. Almost as if we were expected. Even here I can sense the darkness of this place.” 

“Sensing the darkness.” Bellecoat snorted dismissively. “What rubbish.” 

“Your senses are dull for you are not one of the Light’s servants.” The Vestal remarked tartly. “For those in tune with the higher mysteries such things are clear as day.” 

“Oy, ladies, can we stop the catfight for a bit an’ focus on the job?” Dismas asked bluntly. 

“Dismas is right, this is no time for squabbling.” Reynauld remarked sternly, glancing at them both. “The inner door appears intact. Let’s go.” He said, pushing open the door. 

Compared to the partially lit outer area the long corridor ahead of them was extremely dark and utterly silent. Taking a torch from one of the packs they used their flint to light it. The oil-soaked rags quickly caught and they entered the dusty hallway, shutting the door behind them. The air became oppressive almost immediately and the hallway itself suddenly felt more dangerous as if the darkness itself had suddenly taken on a life of its own. Writhing shadows danced and slithered back and forth just beyond the flickering light of the torch. Nearby they could see the remains of various skeletons littering the floor as well as aged pieces of parchment and broken wooden beams. The walls themselves were modeled as a series of archways with thick dust webs hanging from them, their vaulted panes of glass smashed and the thin stone between the panes broken. While most of the walls were intact parts of the masonry had broken away into small chunks. 

Dismas felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he looked around. “Weird. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this hallway but I’m gettin’ the chills.” 

Gerri nodded. “The Dark can affect a person in such subtle ways even when no threat is present.” 

“You’re all idiots.” Bellecoat stated in annoyance. “Jumping at shadows already and we’ve just walked in the door. Are you all going to run away the first time a piece of the wall crumbles nearby?” 

“Bellecoat.” Reynauld warned sharply, glaring at her. The woman simply stared back at him silently, her mask covering her expression, though he had the distinct feeling she was glaring at him. 

“We have seen nothing worrisome so far.” Reynauld said to the others. “But it is good to prepare. I will remain up front, Dismas I want you a bit further back to make use of your pistol. Gerri and Bellecoat you remain back a bit more. We will need you to support us should we get attacked.” 

Nodding the group arranged themselves before making their way down the long corridor. Reaching a double wooden door at the end they walked through, entering a room that could have been a study or small library with various broken bookshelves scattered about as well as a fireplace on the opposite wall. Suddenly a series of screeches issued from the shadows and a trio of massive spiders, each the size of a large dog, scrambled into view, their multiple red eyes filled with malevolent intent. 

“Light preserve us!” Gerri gasped as the creatures hissed in fury at them, raising themselves up on their hind legs briefly. 

Reynauld rushed forward with a yell, slashing at one of the beasts with his sword. The spider screamed as the blade slashed across its body, slicing it open and causing its entrails to partially spill out. 

“Back!” Dismas yelled and Reynauld jumped backward out of range of the Highwayman’s pistol. Dismas immediately fired sending grape shot slugs into each of the creatures, killing the one Reynauld had gravely wounded, the other two screeching in pain with several of their eyes damaged. 

“My turn!” Bellecoat stated firmly, reaching for a globe filled with greenish fluid attached to her belt and flinging it at the pair of spiders. The ball exploded as it hit the floor in front of them spraying the fluid inside across both of them, making them stumble back on their pointed legs. 

“How helpful.” The Vestal remarked tartly as she opened her spell book. “Now see the true power of the Light! Let Judgement come upon my foe!” She shouted. 

A blaze of light coalesced around hand before shooting forwarding striking one of the beasts, making it scream as the divine light sizzled away its flesh, making it fall. 

The last spider suddenly spat a blob of poisonous fluid at Gerri. Unable to move quickly enough it splashed against her armor with some of the acidic bile catching her in the face, making her wince as it burned. 

Suddenly the spider began to writhe in pain as it squealed. 

“What’s happening?” Reynauld asked urgently. 

“My special recipe.” Bellecoat said smugly as the creature wobbled towards them. “A mixture of powerful flesh-eating bacteria in an accelerating suspension that reacts with air. I call it a plague grenade.” She stated with satisfaction as the creature fell to the ground with a _thump_. 

“Useful indeed.” Reynauld remarked as the creature expired a moment later with a slow hiss. “Remind me never to let you near my food if I happen to upset you.” 

The Plague Doctor barked a laugh. “What makes you think I’d need to poison your food? You have to wear clothes at some point.” 

Reynauld felt himself become somewhat pale, grateful that the armor hid his pallor as he motioned for the others to follow after him. 

“Are you alright?” Bellecoat asked Gerri as they entered the next corridor. “That spit of theirs looked rather nasty.” 

“I’m fine.” Gerri assured her. “Only a little bit got on my skin. It burned a bit but my armor took most of it. Thank you for your concern.” She said with a smile. 

“I wasn’t concerned.” Bellecoat replied flatly. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t injured. We didn’t need you slowing us down if you were.” She said before moving on. 

The Vestal frowned at the woman’s apathetic words before following after her. 

“Not too bad so far.” Dismas remarked. “Never thought I’d see bloody spiders as big as that. How’d they grow so big in ‘ere?” He wondered as he reloaded his pistols. 

“The Dark’s influence no doubt.” Gerri replied. “We should not be surprised to find similar things in here.” 

“Torch is starting to go dim.” Dismas remarked, glancing at the torch in the Vestal’s hand. “Bloody oil don’t last long does it?” 

“Light another to make up the difference.” Reynauld replied. “I would rather not be caught by surprise in here.” 

A spark was struck as Bellecoat lit one of hers from her pack before they entered another room. In the middle of the room, seemingly waiting for them, was another group of four spiders just as big as the others. 

“Bloody ‘ell! More of ‘em!” Dismas complained, readying his pistol. 

Gerri tossed her torch to the ground, reaching for her book as Reynauld once again leapt forward. This spider, however, seemed to anticipate his attack and dodged backward before ejecting thick webbing from its body, entangling him in the sticky substance. 

Dismas quickly fired another round of grape shot at the group, hitting them as the Crusader struggled to free himself using his sword to cut apart the strands. Furious at the Highwayman’s attack one of the spiders scuttled forward on swift legs before leaping at Dismas. The man quickly tried to dodge but the spider’s fangs latched onto his leg before stabbing into his thigh. Dismas cried out in pain as he felt the spider’s venom enter his veins before bringing his dirk down fiercely, stabbing the foul creature in the head. Screeching in pain the spider yanked out its fangs as it scrambled back giving Dismas precious seconds to reload his firearm. Meanwhile Bellecoat threw another of her plague grenades, hitting the two spiders that were further back, the consuming bacteria splattering into their eyes. Gerri cried out another demand for Judgement and light burst from her hand once more, hitting one of the spiders and making it squeal while Reynauld finally managed to free himself. The spider that had just bitten Dismas suddenly jumped at Reynauld with an angry hiss, attempting to bite him as well but the Crusader dodged out of the way, putting him close to two of the creatures. Quickly reaching for a scroll case at his hip he pulled out a scroll that seemed to glow with divine light. Allowing it to unroll he quickly cried out in a strident voice. “I accuse you of consorting with Darkness! In the name of the Light, begone!” 

A blaze of power erupted from the holy text making one of the spiders explode into pieces of bloody viscera and driving the other one back with a scream, the light searing its body. Reynauld quickly moved out of the way of the others as he swiftly rolled up the scroll and replaced it back into the scroll case on his belt. The spiders in the rear quickly attacked with Gerri finding herself being bound up similarly to the way Reynauld had been with Bellecoat being on the receiving end of a glob of spit, though her heavy robes absorbed most of the damage. Drawing his knife Dismas ran forward, slashing at the head of one of the spiders, making it bleed and stumble back. The last spider spit another blob at Dismas who quickly ducked. 

“Stay down!” Bellecoat shouted as she lobbed another grenade at the spider who had just attacked him. The globe smashed against the thing’s face and it screamed as the flesh-eating bacteria ate away at it before it fell to the ground in a heap. Reynauld stabbed his sword into the remaining spider as it struggled to rise from Dismas’s attack, killing it. 

The threats dispatched everyone took a moment to collect themselves while Gerri quickly moved to Dismas who had sat heavily onto the dusty stone floor, gripping his thigh through hissed teeth. 

“Anti-venom! Now!” He barked. 

Gerri quickly dug into her pack, plucking the vial out before handing it to Dismas who quickly swallowed the green liquid before tossing the empty bottle away in disgust. 

“Bloody stuff tastes like sewer water but it’s better than feelin’ fire in me veins.” He said with a cough. 

Bellecoat walked over to one of the dead spiders and quickly cut away one of its fangs with a scalpel obtained from one of her pouches. Digging the blade into the spider’s body she efficiently dissected its venom sac before collecting some of the fluid in a vial. 

“What are you doing?” Reynauld inquired from nearby. 

“A rudimentary test.” Bellecoat replied offhandedly as she took out a few implements and small pouches from the bags on her belt. “I want to find out how potent that venom is.” 

“You can do that?” Gerri asked curiously. 

“With a full laboratory certainly.” The woman replied crisply. “With the stocks I have on hand I will only be able to make an educated guess on its toxicity. But I will at least be able to tell whether it’s deadly or not.” 

“How’s that?” Dismas asked roughly, his face still scrunched with discomfort. 

“The use of some simple reagents to create a reaction.” She said somewhat cryptically. 

Taking a pair of thin metal tweezers in hand she opened a few of the small pouches before her and took pinches of powder from each one, placing them into the vial with the poison before adding a bit of water from a flask and mixing it carefully. A few moments later the liquid turned a pale green. 

“Hmmm, not too bad then.” She remarked idly, capping it before putting her pouches away. “If the liquid had turned purple you might have been in trouble. As it happens this stuff is fast-acting but not deadly in small doses. It’ll slow you down and hurt like hell but it won’t kill you...unless you get bitten by half a dozen of those things all at once of course.” She said with an amused tone. 

“Bloody wonderful.” The man grumbled. “Stuff seems to be workin’ though. I think I’ll be on me feet in a few.” 

After a few minutes with Gerri wrapping his leg wound with some cloth Dismas finally got to his feet. Walking about near some of the broken furniture against the wall to test his legs he discovered discovered a small dusty pouch filled with some Sovereigns and what appeared to be shards of onyx. 

“Finally found a few bits of good luck.” He muttered, stowing the pouch in his pack. “Fortune smirks at least.” 

“Everyone ready to go?” Reynauld asked. 

A chorus of nods confirmed this a moment later as they exited the room and began walking down another hallway. As they walked they came across an iron maiden sitting against the wall, slightly ajar. 

“Strange to find somethin’ like this ‘ere.” Dismas remarked as he carefully opened it before inspecting the inside. 

Suddenly the iron door slammed shut of its own volition with a loud clang making the Highwayman yell. 

“Dismas!” Reynauld shouted as he ran over to the device. “Are you alright?” 

“Get me out o’ this bloody thing!” Dismas shouted frantically, the Highwayman pressing his back against the rear of the device as he panted heavily in fright, the rusty and broken spikes centimeters from piercing him with two of them directly in front of his eyes. 

Reynauld quickly tried using the two keys they had purchased from town but neither one would fit the keyhole. Gripping the lock he struggled to break it with all his strength before he gave up moments later. “The damn thing’s jammed somehow. I could have sworn the lock was broken a moment ago!” 

“Get me out you tossers!” Dismas yelled. 

“We’re doing our best!” Gerri called to him. “Don’t worry, we’ll have you out soon! Are you injured?” 

“No but I bloody will be if I move!” He retorted. 

“He is fortunate those spikes are rusted away.” Bellecoat observed. “Otherwise he’d be bleeding out by now.” 

“Not helpful Bellecoat! Do you have any suggestions for actually getting him out?” Reynauld asked in frustration. 

The Plague Doctor seemed to sneer at him before checking her pouches. “I have some acid on me which may eat away the lock.” 

From one of her pouches she removed a small glass tube with a narrow end and a vial of greenish liquid. Removing the cork from the vial she placed the narrow end of the glass tube into the keyhole of the locking mechanism before carefully dripping part of the vial’s contents into the tube and down into the lock. Moments later a bit of smoke began to rise from it as she slowly continued to drip the acidic fluid into the mechanism. After about 15 minutes of Dismas cursing and yelling himself nearly hoarse the vial was empty. Stepping back she motioned for Reynauld to try again. As the Crusader bent down again Gerri stepped beside her and murmured in her ear. 

“I’m curious, what do you normally use that small tube and acid for?” 

“Clearing wax from a patient’s ear canal.” She stated in a bored tone. 

Gerri stepped back with a shocked gasp only to hear the woman chuckle quietly from beneath her mask, making her frown. 

“You could have told me the truth you know.” The Vestal stated with an annoyed frown. 

“I could have.” The Plague Doctor agreed. “But it was much more enjoyable to see your reaction.” 

“Got it!” Reynauld cried as the damaged mechanism came free with a loud SNAP. He quickly yanked the maiden’s door open to see Dismas trembling, his face pale and sweating as he stumbled out. 

“I ain’t never goin’ in a closet again!” He swore, his voice slightly hysterical. “That bloody thing was haunted! First the damn venom, now this! What the ‘ell?!” 

Bellecoat stepped forward and examined him brusquely before stepping back. “No obvious injuries. I believe you owe me a ‘thank you’ for getting you out.” She suggested archly. 

“Sod off!” He retorted, still shaken from the experience of being trapped. 

“Let’s take a moment to let Dismas get his bearings.” Reynauld suggested carefully. 

As the group rested for a moment Reynauld slowly wandered further away, moving close to one of the windows. Glancing down he saw a small rucksack partially hidden behind a column. Glancing back at the others he carefully knelt down and opened it. 

From within came the gleam of coin in the flickering torchlight. 

Licking his lips and checking to see that the others were not looking in his direction he carefully removed his gauntlet and scooped up the coins, placing them in one of his pouches before tying it shut and replacing the metal glove. He casually walked back to where the group was waiting with no one the wiser. After a few minutes the Highwayman had calmed down sufficiently for them to continue. 

As they entered the next room they spotted a group of four figures standing in the gloom. As they shambled forward Gerri gasped in fear as four grinning skeletal faces leered back at her. The first skeleton wore a tattered kilt about its waist and held a club in its hand. The second was slightly better dressed, wearing tattered armor around its waist and a single shoulder guard as well as gloves and wielded a simple sword. The ones in the back were different with one covered in armor befitting a conquistador with pantaloons and a breastplate as well as a bowled helmet, armed with a crossbow. The fourth, standing further back from the others, was dressed in the old finery of a courier with a furred overcoat of black and purple. Adorning its skull was a round furred hat topped with a puffed ball. In its hands it bore a dagger and a goblet filled with some unidentifiable liquid. 

“Undead?!” Gerri asked in a trembling voice. “I--I never thought…” 

“Save the disbelief for a less precipitous moment!” Bellecoat barked, shaking the Vestal out of her frozen state. 

Wasting no time Reynauld charged the closest one bearing the club, his sword smacking hard against the unnatural creature. Bone splinters flew, pelting his armor but the thing seemed not to care as it swung its club at Reynauld’s head who ducked. Dismas’s pistol spat grapeshot with a clap of thunder but the spray merely smacked against the second, sword-bearing skeleton, the rest of it missing. 

“Not easy to shoot bloody bones is it?” He grumbled to himself as he quickly reloaded. 

“I suppose it’s up to me then.” Bellecoat stated with dark amusement as she lobbed another plague grenade at the rear of the group only to gasp softly in shock as the well-dressed skeleton smacked it away almost dismissively with a hand, sending it smashing against the wall. At the same time the crossbowman fired a bolt, the sharp stake of wood slamming into the Plague Doctor’s shoulder, making her stumble back with a cry of pain as she felt the bone underneath fracture. Gerri quickly moved to aid her, the Vestal yanking the bolt out of her with a cry before pressing a hand against the wound and calling upon her powers. 

“May the Light’s divine grace heal this wound!” She prayed frantically. A moment later light blossomed under her fingers as she gripped the wound tightly. She winced as Bellecoat cried out in pain from the bone re-setting itself before it healed, though the wound still bled sluggishly. As she turned back to the others she suddenly found the courier striding towards her. Before she could speak the skeleton tossed the contents of the goblet towards her, making the liquid splash against her face and chest. 

Gerri cried out in shock as the vile liquid seemed to seep into her skin. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her robe she opened her eyes and gasped. The very air before her seemed to warp unnaturally and the skeletons, while frightening before, now had become even more terrifying. Dark, twisted laughter ushered from their leering mouths as red pinpricks of light glowed malevolently within their eye sockets. 

“Light help us!” She cried fearfully. 

“Focus damnit!” Bellecoat shouted at her. “We need you!” 

Looking at the others she saw another crossbow bolt sticking out of Dismas’s thigh as he fired another shot at the club-bearing skeleton, making it stagger back while Reynauld and the sword-wielding skeleton fought each other furiously, their blades clashing back and forth. The skeleton holding the club ran towards Dismas and Gerri heard a roar of anger come from its mouth as it charged, preparing to swing. Forcing herself to fight she held out her hand again. 

“The Light Judges you!” She shouted, sending a bolt of power flying towards the skeleton. The ray slammed into the creature, making it stumble as its ribcage exploded into a thousand pieces. Dismas quickly yanked out the crossbow bolt before pressing his pistol to the skeleton’s head and pulling the trigger. Thunder erupted across the room as the creature’s skull exploded apart, sending it flying back. At the same time Reynauld managed to slash at his own opponent, shattering its arm and sending its sword flying. Unarmed, the disabled skeleton quickly ran to get its sword back, allowing the group to focus on the remaining two. 

“How can such things exist?” Gerri asked Bellecoat frantically as she moved to Dismas to try and heal him. 

“I for one will be very interested in learning more about them. Once we’ve hacked them to pieces of course.” The Plague Doctor replied with relish. 

“By the Light’s divine grace, I pray thee heal!” The Vestal murmured fervently. Light bloomed again, staunching the flow of blood slightly from the man’s wounded leg, his trousers stained red. 

“I’ve had enough of taking a back seat.” Bellecoat stated firmly before running forward towards the well-dressed skeleton and pulling a slim blade from her belt. 

“Die!” She shouted as she swiftly slashed the blade across the skeleton’s spine. The razor-sharp edge cut neatly through the bone just beneath its chin, nearly severing the creature’s head from its body. Suddenly the woman felt the cold steel of a knife stab through her robe’s thick layers and pierce her in the stomach. At the same time a crossbow bolt slammed into her back between her shoulder blades, the force of the impact thrusting her forward and the knife held by the skeleton even deeper into her body. Gasping she fell to her knees as she felt strength leaving her. 

“Damnit!” She gasped, her blade slipping from her hand as she felt blood pooling inside her clothes and coating her chest, the bolt seemingly lodged against her spine, making her body throb in pain with each heartbeat. 

Suddenly thunder roared across the room and the courier’s head was flung away into the darkness, the body collapsing before her. A moment later she felt a woman’s hands on her shoulders and Reynauld’s loud shout as his sword clanged against armor. 

“I guess...you get...the last word.” Bellecoat moaned weakly. 

“You’re not dying here!” Gerri swore as she yanked out the crossbow bolt, making the dying woman cry out in pain. “Let the Light’s blessing fill you!” She prayed. 

Suddenly power flowed into Hannah’s body making her gasp in shock. A feeling like warm, soothing water flowed through her and she felt her strength return. Though her body still ached she found she was able to feel her extremities again, the wound in her stomach bleeding slightly less. 

“That...might keep me alive a...few more minutes.” Bellecoat admitted breathlessly. “Any chance...for another one?” 

“I will try.” Gerri assured her. 

Not far away Reynauld grunted as the crossbowman shot another bolt at him, the projectile slamming into his armor and hitting him in the hip. The creature’s ancient armor was scored and its trousers slashed apart as the Crusader had tried to cut away at the creature. Pushing back the pain with a loud yell he swung his blade, slamming it into the side of the creature’s head, knocking the bowled helmet aside as it clanged to the floor. Dismas’s pistol roared and the creature staggered as part of its skull became pulverized. Taking advantage of the momentary disorientation Reynauld slammed the pommel of his sword against the skeleton’s damaged head, smashing in its skull completely and causing it to fall to the floor. Nearby Gerri was finishing a healing spell on Dismas, having removed the bolt from his leg. After ensuring he was not in danger she returned to Bellecoat, helping the woman to her feet where she had been resting. Reynauld took a few moments to carefully dig the bolt out of his armor, thankful that the padding underneath had slowed it down, the bolt causing little more than a flesh wound. 

“Is everyone alright?” He asked a bit breathlessly. 

“Me leg ain’t feelin’ too hot but I’ll live.” Dismas grunted as he limped towards him. 

“I think I’m alright.” Gerri replied, her eyes a bit unfocused as she helped Bellecoat. “Hannah’s not in a good way.” 

“As long as I don’t do something stupid like that again I think I’ll be fine.” The woman replied in a winded tone, taking her time to speak. “Whatever she did it...managed to staunch the stab wound enough. I don’t think I’m...bleeding inside anyway. And I can walk...I wasn’t sure about that a few minutes ago thanks to that...crossbow bolt.” 

“I believe we have one room left to check on the ground floor.” Reynauld said quietly. “Let us ensure it is clear and we can return to town.” 

“Looks like some boxes over ‘ere.” Dismas mentioned as he hobbled over to a stack of crates against the far wall. “Care to take a gander?” 

“I suppose it will not hurt to check.” Reynauld replied. 

Taking hold of his sword he brought the pommel of it down upon one of the crates, splitting it open. Inside, packed in straw, sat several heads carved out of various types of stone. 

“Well I’ll be...busts.” Reynauld remarked with some surprise. 

Each of them took one of the pieces out of the box and dusted them off. 

“I can’t say I recognize any of them.” Bellecoat remarked as she turned the marble head in her hands this way and that. 

“I think one of them is of St. Gerome the Sanguine.” Gerri replied. “We have a small statue of him at the convent.” 

“Should fetch a pretty pence or two to the right buyer.” Dismas remarked. “Good quality work this is and good condition too.” 

“Let’s see what’s in the others then.” Bellecoat replied. 

Reynauld quickly smashed open the other two crates. One of them contained several small gilded crests and a small folio of papers while the other contained a few paintings in metal frames. 

“Pack them up. Hopefully Master Ezekiel will have some ideas about how to put these to use.” Reynauld suggested. 

A few moments later found the group making their way down the dark hallway. 

“Can you use more of your power to heal me further?” Bellecoat asked Gerri. 

The woman shook her head sadly. “I have tried such things before but the Light will not answer my call unless I or another are in direct peril because of an enemy. I spoke with the others about this at the convent soon after I began my training. They had heard stories of some of the high priests being able to heal at will but that could just be rumor. The Mother Superior said it had always been this way. She thinks it is to ensure our humility that we might not become overconfident in battle or arrogant towards others but I find that hard to believe. Still, I cannot complain overmuch. After all, I have managed to save others that might have died were it not for the Light granting me the ability to heal them.” 

“It seems to me this Light of yours is rather selfish, giving out its power in such a limited way.” Bellecoat remarked acerbically as they made their way down the hallway to the final door. 

The Vestal frowned, affronted by the woman’s remark. “The Light does not need to do anything. The fact that it gives us power at all to fight evil shows its benevolence.” 

“If you say so.” The Plague Doctor replied, clearly unimpressed as she lit another torch to shore up the fading light. 

Coming to the door Reynauld paused. “Is everyone ready?” 

“As we’ll ever be.” Dismas replied with a sigh. 

Nodding the Crusader pushed open the door. 

“Soddin’ ‘ell!” Dismas cursed as they entered the room. 

Before them stood a group similar to the previous room except there were two couriers standing in the back instead of a crossbowman. 

The skeleton holding the sword immediately charged at Reynauld, stabbing him near the elbow where his armor connected, making him cry out in pain before he wildly slashed at the monster, smacking it hard with the flat of his sword against its skull, making it stagger back. Unfazed the creature began to quickly stab at Reynauld forcing the Crusader to parry and dodge. Dismas pulled out his pistol and quickly fired, the shot sailing over the heads of the couriers who seemed to grin at him malevolently. Racing forward they threw the contents of their cups towards the Highwayman. Dismas dodged to the side, the liquid splashing onto Bellecoat and Gerri instead, making the women cry out. 

Bellecoat grabbed a globe from one of her pouches and flung it angrily at the closest courier. The sphere exploded in the creature’s face letting out an actinic burst of light which caused it to stumble back, swaying drunkenly. 

“Hit it now while it’s stunned!” Bellecoat demanded loudly. 

Her body shivering from the effects of the vile concoction the skeletons had thrown on her, the Vestal once again focused her mind and called forth her power. Light burst from her hand and slammed into the swaying skeleton, making it hiss loudly as part of its body exploded into fragments. Meanwhile the club-bearing skeleton charged at Dismas only to be flung backwards by a pistol shot to the head. 

“Back off ya soddin’ tosser!” Dismas shouted to the undead. “I ain’t for you!” 

Suddenly Reynauld let out a shout of triumph as his powerful swing decapitated the head of his foe, sending the skull flying across the room while the rest of its body crumpled before him. Taking advantage of the other skeleton being momentarily off-balance Reynauld charged forward before slamming the pommel of his sword into the creature’s head. As the skeletal warrior staggered back Reynauld swung his blade with all his strength. The leering skull shattered from the furious blow, sending the body flying. Hissing angrily the remaining couriers quickly flung more of their hateful potion at Reynauld, the liquid somehow seeping in between the seams of his armor to soak him. 

“Light preserve us!” He cried as the shadows suddenly came alive with glowing eyes seemingly appearing all around them. “We’re surrounded!” 

“What are you talking about?” Bellecoat demanded fearfully, looking about as she held up one of the torches. “I don’t see anything!” 

“There better not be any more of the soddin’ things!” Dismas insisted. “I ain’t got much left in me!” 

“It’s that liquid they’re throwing, whatever it is!” Gerri insisted. “Focus your minds! Don’t let your fears overwhelm you! We are too close now!” 

“Take this!” The Plague Doctor shouted as she threw another of her grenades. The aggressive bacteria splashed against the pair of skeletons and quickly began to eat away at the remaining ligaments and tendons holding the creatures together. As one of the couriers attempted to throw the contents of its seemingly never-ending chalice again, Reynauld swung his sword, knocking it from the creature’s hand before swinging back to try and hit it a second time. Screeching angrily the skeleton ducked the second swipe before pulling a dagger from beneath it’s coat and stabbing Reynauld in the side as the second courier attempted to flank him. Dismas’s pistol roared in response knocking the second undead back and allowing Bellecoat to throw another grenade at it, knocking it to the ground. Dodging another stab of the courier’s dagger Reynauld slashed at it with his sword, cutting off one of its arms while Dismas fired another shot, shattering its pelvis. As Reynauld delivered the killing blow to the skeleton before him the one nearby suddenly rose up, racing towards him with its own dagger. Shouted furiously, the Vestal fired a blast of light from her hand that knocked the creature to the ground, immolating it an instant before it would have reached the knight, making him spin around in surprise. 

As the flames died down they took a moment to scan the room for other assailants. Finding none they sat down onto the floor to rest. Reynauld slowly removed his helmet with a sigh, his face pale as he looked to the others. Dismas’ clothes were soaked with blood and the two women were covered in the wet substance the skeletons had thrown at them. The man could see Gerri’s hands shaking slightly, her eyes wide with fear as she looked about her. Of Bellecoat he could sense little though he could tell she was still gravely injured as the woman sat still while taking in deep breaths, her hands clasped in her lap, her mask still covering her face. As he looked about a sense of unreality continued to permeate his senses, making every shadowed corner whisper with malevolent intent just beyond the torch light 

“Let’s get out o’ this bloody madhouse.” Dismas murmured in an unsettled voice. 

“I couldn’t agree more.” Reynauld replied with a worried look. 

* * *

A/N: The issue of money and what things cost is going to be somewhat vague as the game only uses gold as currency. However in the late 1800’s in England, which is where the game more or less takes place, a person could live comfortably on around 60 pounds (or gold Sovereigns) a year so several thousand gold would be enough for all of your characters to live well for a year or two at least. This means the idea of shovels being worth 250 gold apiece is absurd, even with merchants charging highly inflated prices for the dangerous travel to the hamlet and back. I will try to be consistent regarding these matters but the worth of various things, including the trinkets as well as crests, busts, etc. will be fudged somewhat depending on the situation. 


	6. Interactions

“Ahh! Bloody ‘ell!” Dismas swore as Reynauld removed the poultice from his leg, the wounded limb still red and warm at the wound sites where the spiders and bolts had pierced him.

“Suck it up.” Bellecoat sighed as she reclined on one of the couches in the room, her mask and robes off to the side revealing the woman’s sharp face and jet black hair, dressed in a simple blouse and loose pants. “You’re lucky none of those bolts hit a major artery or you wouldn’t have made it back.” 

“Shut up!” Dismas retorted. “You got bloody ice in your veins, you know that?” He demanded. 

“In my line of work it’s rather necessary.” She retorted. “I doubt you’d have the stomach for dealing with victims infected with plague. I could tell you stories...” 

“Please Hannah, try not to strain yourself.” Reynauld insisted quietly. “You have your own injuries to heal from you know?” 

“Thank you for the reminder.” She sniped with a frown. “Obviously I’d forgotten I was in pain.” 

Reynauld merely shook his head as he held his tongue, knowing that further words were useless as he applied a new bandage covered in medicinal herbs to the man’s leg, tying it tight. Looking about the study in which they were convalescing to ensure nothing else needed to be done, he stood and walked out the door, shutting it. Standing against the wall waiting for him was Charles. 

“Come.” The man stated quietly, beckoning him as they walked down the hallway to the man’s office. The pair settled themselves in chairs with Charles behind the desk and the Crusader sitting in front of it. 

“I didn’t want to speak with them in earshot as I want your honest opinion regarding them and your first engagement.” He explained. “But first of all, how are they?” 

“Injured.” Reynauld said with a tired sigh. “Bellecoat considerably so. If not for Gerri’s powers she would have died there. Dismas suffered from spider venom as well as getting shot in the leg, Gerri in the shoulder. It will take several days of constant care, possibly a week for their injuries to heal. Thankfully my armor allowed me to survive most of what was thrown my way.” 

“Tell me.” Charles prompted. 

The Crusader spent the next hour or so detailing all that had transpired in the cathedral and the creatures they had fought. Through it all Charles sat silently with a pensive look on his face. 

“This matter is obviously far more grave than we first thought.” Reynauld concluded. “This one outing nearly killed Dismas and Bellecoat.” 

“Hannah because she disobeyed orders and acted foolishly.” Charles suggested with a frown. 

“Perhaps.” Reynauld acknowledged with a nod. “But she does not have combat experience so it is not surprising. No doubt she is used to working on her own and relying on herself. She is not a fool though, she now knows very well the cost of acting rashly. She won’t do so again if I’m any judge.” 

Charles nodded. “You think we will need more help?” 

Reynauld nodded. “It is paramount that we receive more aid. The four of us alone will not be enough. The loss of even one would be catastrophic in a place such as that.” 

“Very well, I’ll write to the Chapter Master and let him know. Sign your own name at the bottom of the letter when I’m finished with it as an endorsement. He should be able to spread the word about London and the surrounding cities as well.” 

“No doubt that will cost a great deal.” Reynauld suggested unhappily. 

“True but the relics you brought back should help in that regard.” Charles replied. “I’ll send them along as well to have them appraised. I trust the Chapter Master’s character so I do not believe he would keep more of the proceeds than he should. The funds should allow him to advertise as well as provide a small down payment for those that apply, for future services rendered.” 

The Crusader nodded. “I do not disagree. Is there anything else before I retire?” He asked as he stood. 

“No.” Charles replied. “Get some rest yourself. It would not do to have the leader of the group fail to recuperate as well.” 

Nodding with a slight smile of appreciation Reynauld excused himself. 

* * *

_4 days later, that evening…_

“What do you mean I ain’t allowed t’ use the tables?!” Dismas demanded of the tavern keeper. “You saw me, I helped set up the bloody things!” 

“And I also saw you palming cards the minute you were able to play!” The man retorted gruffly. “I let it slide because it didn’t matter back then but I’m not going to let you cheat these people out of what little coin they have!” 

“You got no proof o’ any o’ that!” Dismas insisted. “I’m here t’ ‘elp save your bloody town I am!” 

“And that gives you the right to cheat?” The man demanded, his mustache bristling. “I think not! Everything else is available to you but no gambling!” He stated firmly before walking away. 

“Bloody ungrateful sod.” The Highwayman grumbled under his breath as he hobbled over to the bar. “Then get me a pint, I’m bloody parched!” He called out. 

The barkeep returned a few moments later with a mug of ale, sitting down in front of him with a _thud_. 

“I’ll have one of those I think.” Said a cool feminine voice behind Dismas. 

The Highwayman glanced over his shoulder to see Bellecoat carefully sit on the barstool next to him, her onyx hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. 

“You sure you should be up an’ about like this?” He asked dubiously. 

She glanced at him disdainfully for a moment. 

“Right. Forgot who I was talkin’ to.” He grumbled, refocusing on his own drink. 

A wisp of a triumphant smile played about her lips for a moment before her drink arrived, the barkeep wandering off immediately. Taking a careful sniff she took several swallows of the pale liquid. 

“Not bad, considering.” She remarked offhandedly. 

“You was expectin’ it be infested with plague maybe?” Dismas asked with a sidelong glance. 

As the woman returned his glance he saw a twinkle of sharp humor in her dark eyes. “Considering some of the places I’ve been and the general condition of this place...let’s just say I considered the possibility.” 

Dismas snorted. “Barkeep better not hear you say that or he’ll ‘ave your ‘ead.” 

Bellecoat chuckled arrogantly for a moment at that. “Please! That overgrown slug wouldn’t have a chance. Still, I suppose it wouldn’t do to have the man dislike me, I’d rather not subsist on substandard food and drink while I’m here.” 

“Sounds like a good idea. Use that thinkin’ with everyone else an’ everythin’ will be fine.” He suggested quietly with another sip. 

“Yes, I’m sure it would.” She replied indifferently. “But as I’m here to do a job, an extremely dangerous one apparently, I’d rather not make friends. I’m sure you can relate to that given your...former line of work.” 

Dismas glared at her briefly before shrugging. “There’s always that risk, no matter what you do. Had a mate of mine get run over by a lorry once. Nice bloke, worked in a library, never hurt a fly. As quiet a life as you could want an’ a lorry gets ‘im. Danger everywhere, ain’t there?” 

“I do believe you just proved my point.” Bellecoat replied with a hint of amusement. “Why make friends at all?” 

“Some people like companionship, don’t they?” He replied. “Not everyone can be like you. You got any family, people you’re close to?” 

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business, frankly.” The woman replied lazily, taking another sip. “In a few weeks we probably won’t see each other again.” 

“You think the job’s done that quick?” He asked her curiously. “I don’t think so.” 

She snorted. “You’re such an optimist, it’s almost cute. If this first expedition nearly did one of us in what do you think’s going to happen the next time we go down in there?” 

Throwing back the rest of her drink she eased her way off of the barstool before carefully walking towards the door leaving the Highwayman behind her to ruminate on her words. 

Neither one noticed the cloaked figure entering silently through a side door and slipping furtively into the brothel attached to the tavern. 

_The Abbey…_

“What troubles you my son?” The old Abbot asked the man in front of him as the two of them sat in the Abbey’s private confessional, the dim light of a candle flickering softly between them, casting them both in shadow. 

“I’m...I’m afraid Father.” The man confessed quietly in shame. 

“Tis no sin to fear my son.” The Abbot replied gently. “Respectful fear of the Light is the beginning of wisdom and there are many things in this world we are right to fear. The people here know this all too well.” 

The man nodded. “I know. I know it is...practical that I should fear the darkness here for to not fear it is foolish. And yet...I have led men into such battles before...slain the enemies of the Light without compunction and yet…” He trailed off, sighing quietly. “Here…” 

“Have you ever stood before such a place of evil as this?” The Abbot whispered intently. 

The man paused for a moment before shaking his head.  


“And therein lies the root.” The Abbot replied softly. “You know what evil lurks in the hearts of men and you have fought it well, but the pure evil...the unnaturalness of this place...it is not found in the wholesome places of the world where normal men tread. You have fought battles on the outskirts but now you take the battle to the enemy’s stronghold. It is a daunting prospect.” 

“They look to me to be unflinching in the face of such terrors...as if it does not affect me.” The man sighed quietly. “But I do not know whether I can be that for them.” 

“You are not made of stone my son and they do not expect perfection from you.” The Abbot assured him gently. “You are the bulwark of their strength, yes, but you are not the unfeeling wall that absorbs all the blows without flinching. Let them see when you are weak so that they in turn may strengthen you. Let them see that you are a man. You will not fail them by being human, but you may fail them by trying to be more than human.” He cautioned. “In such a place as this it is only proper that you should be afraid. Use that fear to arm yourself with caution and proceed with care that you and the others may emerge victorious. That is a sign of a good leader and that is what they will need.” 

“Thank you Father.” He said quietly. 

“Go in peace, my son.” The Abbot replied softly as the other man stood and left. 

* * *

_1 week after the first incursion…_

“Gerri is back on her feet and I am prepared.” Reynauld told Charles as the pair of them made their way to the edge of town where the carriage was due to arrive. “You saw the Chapter Master’s missive?” 

Charles nodded. “I did indeed. I was pleasantly surprised to find that we could sell most of what you recovered. The crests not so much perhaps since the family emblem is still considered taboo in most places but we can use those to enhance the look of the various buildings along with some of the less expensive paintings and busts. Some real estate agents in London are showing interest in some of the property deeds you found as well. They will take a little longer to sell but the price should be more than enough to offset the delay. Do you know anything about these new arrivals?” 

Reynauld shook his head. “Hannah mentioned that she had sent a message to a colleague to fill in for her while she was recovering. Let us hope she will prove an able replacement for the time being.” 

“Indeed. Apparently the other is someone the Chapter Master knows personally but he was rather cryptic in the details.” Charles mentioned as they neared the carriage garage. “Considering the man’s penchant for straightforwardness that does not bode well.” 

A short time later they could heard the rattle of the carriage along the road. They watched as it clattered up to the town’s edge and slowed to a stop with Williams in the driver’s bench. Grinning at them in his usual unhinged fashion he leaped down and bowed to the two of them. 

“Good afternoon mi’Lord, Master Winters! A fine day it is, yes! So pretty and blue the sky!” 

“It is indeed Williams.” Charles smiled, slowly getting used to the man’s harmless brand of insanity. “These are the new arrivals, I take it?” 

“Oh yes Sir! Yes! Another beaky lady and a man in a mask of metal! Very strange, very odd, even for here!” He exclaimed before walking over to the carriage and opening the door with a short bow to the occupants. 

The figure that first emerged from the carriage was similar in dress to Bellecoat except her heavy over-robe was a dark brown instead of green and she did not wear her signature mask upon her face. The woman’s brown hair was straight and hung about her shoulders, her blue eyes cautious as she looked about, her face somewhat softer than Bellecoat’s hard visage. In her hand she carried a small satchel of supplies. The person behind her looked rather more strange. Dressed almost entirely in bronze-colored armor, the few places that were not covered were swathed in bandages. Around the person’s head and shoulders sat a ragged white hood and their face was covered entirely by a metal mask of bronze with slits for the eyes and mouth. A pouch hung at the figure’s belt and a large two-handed sword was strapped to its back. 

“Greetings.” The woman said with a incline of her head. “Francine Dyella at your service. Hannah Bellecoat said you would be expecting my arrival?” She asked. 

Charles nodded. “Welcome Ms. Dyella. I’m glad you could join us. Who is your travelling companion?” 

“If it pleases you I’d rather he explain himself.” The woman replied nervously. “Where can I find Hannah?” 

“I believe she is at the tavern at the moment.” Charles replied. “Williams can escort you.” 

“Oh...umm...thank you.” The Plague Doctor replied insincerely, looking over at Williams distrustfully. 

“Fear not Madam! Williams has brought you this far, he will not let you slip and fall in the mud!” Williams exclaimed cheerfully with a toothy grin. 

“Williams is a bit odd but he is harmless and quite helpful.” Charles assured her quietly. “You will come to no harm from him.” 

Nodding in resignation Dyella made her way over to the wildly whiskered man before being ushered away, leaving the two of them to greet the other arrival. 

“The beaked lady will be so happy to have a friend here!” William told her enthusiastically. “Oh yes! So cold, she is! So stern! A friendly face will warm her like a fire! Yes yes!” 

Still keeping a wary eye on the man Francine couldn’t help but smile a bit. “You obviously don’t know Hannah very well then. She’s like that even when she’s with…’friends’.” 

“Oh! What a pity!” Williams exclaimed sadly. “Williams was so hoping beaky lady would be nicer! More pleasant! Smart she is, oh yes! Very very brainy! But...terrible bedside manner.” He confided in Dyella with a confidential murmur. 

“That’s Hannah alright.” The woman said with a sigh. “Unfortunately she’s been in some of the worst areas of the world for a long time. I’m afraid it’s made her rather closed off. I suppose one has to when confronted with such suffering all the time. Tend to make one a bit mad I suppose, if one doesn’t.” 

“Oh being mad isn’t bad!” Williams exclaimed with a toothy smile. “Not bad not bad not so sad! Hehehehe!” He giggled. “Fun! Fun it can be, yes!” 

“Umm...I’ll take your word for it.” Dyella muttered quietly, moving a bit further away from the unhinged Caretaker as they entered the tavern. 

“Beaky lady!” Williams called out loudly. “Beaky lady! A visitor, a friend you have come calling! Yes!” 

“Oh do shut up you moronic man-child!” Bellecoat snapped from the top of the stairs. “I’ve had enough of your insane rambling and inane nonsense to last me a lifetime!” 

Williams giggled at this. “Oh beaky lady has such a way with words! Hehehe! Needs some fun, some teasing in her life she does! Poor Williams tries to provide when he can to make her smile. Williams will leave you two alone to talk, yes! So much to talk about!” 

Waving happily Williams departed without another word leaving Bellecoat to glare after him as she hobbled down the stairs. Setting her satchel on the floor Dyella moved to help her only to have Hannah wave her away. 

“Don’t you dare start fussing over me, I’ll be fine!” She snapped. “If I was in serious pain I would hardly be limping down these stairs! It’s my damn back that’s the problem.” 

Dyella frowned in annoyance at this, pouting her lips a bit. “Well hello to you too Hannah. I won’t ask if you should be moving about like this with back problems because you obviously think you’re well enough to do so.” 

“Of course I am.” Hannah replied testily as she reached the bottom stair. “I just can’t move very quickly yet. No reason not to stretch those muscles a bit though, keep them limber. The last thing I want is to have muscles so stiff I can’t move.” She said with a sigh before smirking slightly at Dyella. 

“Well, since you’re here and in good spirits I assume everything is well with you?” 

Dyella let out a put out sigh at this. “I suppose that will do for a ‘hello’. And yes everything is going well enough. What in the world have you gotten yourself into here?” She asked in quiet astonishment. 

Bellecoat snorted at this. “You wouldn’t believe me but I’ll try and convince you anyway. Since it’s a long tale how about a meal to go with it?” 

“Now you’re talking.” Dyella smiled. 

* * *

Charles watched the Caretaker and Francine depart for the tavern before he turned back to see the other occupant of the carriage walk towards them. 

“Jonas De Paar.” The man stated simply, his voice echoing oddly beneath the mask. 

“If I may…” Charles began. 

“I wear these bandages and this mask out of necessity.” The man stated, anticipating his question. “I have found that my skin is not pleasant to look upon and the bandages are for protection.” 

“Protection from what precisely?” Charles asked cautiously. 

“My curse.” The man replied flatly. “I am a leper.” 

Charles gasped softly as Reynauld took an instinctive step back before catching himself and grimacing slightly. “My apologies sir. It was not my intention to insult you.” 

“I understand. Indeed you are more gracious than most.” De Paar stated. “I have been forced to live with my condition for many years and so I know how best to protect others as well as myself.” 

“Reynauld Winters.” The Crusader said, stretching out his hand carefully. 

The man looked at Reynauld’s hand for a moment before clasping it with his own gloved hand. “Jonas.” 

“It cannot be an easy life.” Charles murmured sympathetically. 

“I have no need of your pity though I appreciate your attempt at kindness.” The man replied. “I was forced to come to terms with my lot in life long ago. If you would be so kind as to direct me where I might unpack my belongings?” He asked, pulling down two cases from the top of the carriage. 

“Oh yes, this way.” Charles indicated. 

The three of them walked the short distance to the tavern where they introduced him to the tavern master, though they carefully left the matter of his leprosy out of the introduction. As De Paar headed upstairs Charles turned to Reynauld. 

“Gather the others together.” He instructed him. “Something tells me we will need to get some concerns out of the way before we introduce De Paar to everyone.” 

“Sadly I must agree.” The Crusader replied as the pair left the tavern. 

“Have you ever met such a person before?” Charles asked. 

Reynauld shook his head. “I have not. I have heard of such cases of course but they are rare and usually considered outsiders, banished to the edges of society or exiled entirely.” 

“Unjustly?” Charles asked. “I do worry he could make someone sick accidentally.” He suggested, apprehensively glancing back at the tavern. 

“If a Plague Doctor like Dyella was willing to get within a few feet of him for the entire ride here then I doubt his condition is something to worry about.” Reynauld said as they made their way back to Charles’s office. “He obviously has it well under control.” 

_Later…_

“Of course he does.” Bellecoat remarked negligently as the group of five sat in the lounge next to Charles’s office that evening. “You people obviously know nothing about the disease.” 

“Then why don’t you enlighten us Ms. Bellecoat.” Charles suggested gently. 

“Leprosy is, at its root, a skin disease caused by bacteria.” She explained patiently. “It creates pustules and patches of scaly skin on various parts of the body but unless you’re rubbing yourself all over the man’s skin and thus rubbing the bacteria all over yourself you’re unlikely to contract the disease. In fact, most people are actually immune to the bacteria, it’s the unfortunate ones who aren’t that contract it. Sadly there’s no cure or treatment for the disease that I know of.” 

“Is it painful for him?” Charles asked curiously. 

“Ironically it’s the lack of pain that is the main problem.” Bellecoat replied. “The disease also impacts the nerves close to the skin and can deaden them. The man might slice his hand with a blade and not realize he’s been cut until he happens to look at it and see it bleeding. Naturally this can cause all sorts of possibilities for more dangerous infections.” 

“So all that armor and coverings…” Reynauld began. 

“Are most likely a way to keep from injuring himself accidentally.” Bellecoat confirmed. “No doubt it’s to keep people from fleeing in terror of him as well,” she said with a roll of her eyes, “but De Paar obviously takes care of himself and has done very well so far.” 

“I don’t suppose your healing abilities would be able to help him?” Reynauld asked Gerri curiously. 

The woman shrugged helplessly. “I would be very surprised if he has not attempted that route already. And in any case the powers granted to me by the Light are not that powerful. I could not hope to heal him as I am now.” 

“What about your colleague?” Gerri asked, turning to Bellecoat curiously. 

“She’s competent enough and has been in a few of the nastier places in the world, as have I.” Bellecoat replied. “She may not be as confident as I am regarding combat but she’ll learn quickly enough. I’ve supplied her with some of my plague grenades and shared my recipe with her in case I should no longer be able to continue on here.” 

“Do you think that likely?” Charles asked in concern. 

“No, but in our line of work paranoia keeps you alive so I’m taking no chances.” She replied sharply. “I should be up and about in another week or so.” 

“Bloody leg’s still killin’ me.” Dismas grumbled as he rubbed it ruefully. “Prob’ly another week for me too.” 

Charles nodded. “Then does anyone have any objections to their aid?” 

The rest shook their heads. 

“Very well. Reynauld, I want you, Gerri, Francine, and Jonas to embark tomorrow. Let us hope this time things go smoother.” He said with a sigh. 


End file.
